Of Vanilla and Sandalwood
by Heartless Effervescence
Summary: Who could have guessed that the simple scent of vanilla and sandalwood could be such a confusing, mystifying, reviving concoction? But stemming from this sensational fragrance, a piece of a girl's now-Americanized heart still remains buried in the skyscrapers of Japan; part of heart will remain hiding in the remnants of something once treasured. [Sequel to 'You Are My Sunshine']
1. Of Pretzels and Cupcakes

This is a sequel to "You Are My Sunshine." However, this may also be read as a standalone. Enjoy!

A few of you have expressed confusion when it came to the closing of "You Are My Sunshine." I am sorry that I have not responded with a PM. If you still have questions, please don't hesitate to ask!

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice. **

* * *

**Chapter One: Of Pretzels and Cupcakes**

* * *

"I want food."

"Then eat food."

The brown-haired girl sniffed indignantly. Reaching into a paper box, she fiddled with a plastic bag and blinked, a sneaky grin creeping onto her features. Stretching her hand into the sack, she snagged several pretzels.

Seeing something in her hand, Benji immediately dropped his bottom to the ground. Staring up imploringly, she glanced at her currently-occupied human friend before tossing the dog a pretzel. Turning away abruptly, she leans against the counter and pretends to absentmindedly stare at another pretzel. Tossing this to the resident dog again, the girl's friend catches her snickers just as Benji swallows his second snack.

"Mikan! Hey!" She cries, dashing towards the poor dog.

Startled and confused, he zipped into his crate.

Mikan grinned at the dark-haired girl, dropping another pretzel in front of the small dog. He stepped out cautiously, eagerness highlighting his chocolate eyes.

This time, however, the lean girl bends down swiftly, snatching the pretzel from the ground.

"Aww, come on, Hikaru!" Mikan moped, "Just a treat!"

Large green eyes ablaze, Hikaru glared at the childish brunette. "It's bad for him."

Turning around, the Hikaru proceeded to throw the saliva-coated pretzels away.

Mikan frowned ridiculously and stepped forward to drop another pretzel in front of the confused dog.  
Once again, he watches stupidly as it disappeared before his very eyes. It was all the brunette could do, to not gush at the perplexed expression upon his muzzle.

Hikaru coughed in annoyance.

Valuing her wellbeing, Mikan scurried behind the counter, finding refuge behind the stove and an unwashed pan.

"Don't give him anymore! It's bad for him!" Hikaru glared at her again. "You're so stupid. And to think that you're older than me…"

Hikaru eing Hikaru, however, the emerald-eyed girl evidently wouldn't be able to hold that frown for much longer. Each one of them knew how much she loved that dog, and despite his small size, his capacity to love was unbelievable. Hikaru, in turn, found it equally irresistible to spoil him.

"You two are too loud. I can hear you dummies from downstairs."

Hikaru and Mikan looked up simultaneously, Benji momentarily forgotten. Sheepish looks evident on their faces, they mumbled, "Sorry Hotaru."

Glancing at one another, the two girls chorused instantaneously, "She started it!"

"No, Hikaru started it!"

"Mikan started it!"

"Did not!"

"Did to!"

"Did not!"

"Did—"

"Enough. It does not matter who started it. Just be quiet. And do something about that messy furball." With that, the amethyst-eyed girl was gone.

Blinking for a few seconds, Mikan stepped forward. Eyes twinkling, she tilted her head towards the semi-forgotten dog.

Quick on her feet, Hikaru giggled as she spun around before dashing towards the opening of Benji's crate.

Pouting, Mikan turns back to her former safe haven behind the counter. "No fair!"

As several minutes pass, Hikaru visibly relaxed. Somewhat satisfied that the brunette wouldn't ruin the dog's health, the dark-haired girl turned to discard of the snacks.

And once again, Mikan attempted to spoil Benji.

Spinning on her heel, she grinned, "Hey! _I'm_ giving it to him! Can you get any stupider?" She holds the broken pieces of pretzels out.

Disbelief evident on Mikan's face, she dashed towards the door of the kitchen and stood there, mimicking the look of a timid rabbit.

Passing by the dog, she quickly dropped a pretzel through the cracks of Benji's cage.

In stocking-covered feet, Hikaru's slim figure hurried back to the dog.

She hopped in front of his cage. "No! Benji! Leave it," she said firmly.

Mikan, on the other hand, attempted to cheer him on. "Hurry up! Eat it, boy!"

"Leave it, boy! Leave it!"

Quickly snatching the salty pretzel in his mouth, Benji swallowed it right as Hikaru sticks her hand into the cage.

Mikan grinned as he licked his whiskers, chocolaty orbs staring gazing his owners innocently.

"Good boy, good boy!" Mikan smiled, laughter stretching her eyes.

Shooting one last glance at the white dog, she hurried away, down the hall.

Unable to hold in her laughter, Hikaru allowed a few chortles to escape as well. Blowing a quick kiss towards the dog, she slid down the hall behind Mikan.

The said brunette turned into her studio room as the now-cheerful Hikaru skipped up the stairs with her straight, dark hair flipping behind her.

Directing her attention towards the desktop sitting before her, Mikan settles down comfortably against a wooden chair, turning her gaze towards the closed window. Flicking the blinds upward, the glass revealed a rainy afternoon and half-grown flowers that desperately begged for growth. In certain areas, the wet driveway was covered in overgrown moss.

The lone tree sitting in the center sprouts bare branches that were sure to boast beautiful, mulberry leaves within several weeks. Surrounded by tangled vines the tree sat proudly within a brick circle-wall, secluded in its own world of leafy foliage and greeneries.

A silver Lexus obscured half of the tree from view.  
Rain pelting against the car's window shields, it looked anything but flashy.

A clipped scream sounded from above.

Disregarding them, Mikan opened a Word document and began typing away, outlining the ideas to her latest essay painstakingly slowly.

Momentarily forgetting the task at hand, she closes her eyes, heart contracting. _It's been six months… I—… _Drifting away to a distant land, something intangible nipped at the nape of her neck.

Longing.

From her room, Hikaru yelped again. This time, her cries were accompanied by short staccatos of "Ants! Ants! Mikan! _Ants!_"

Snapping back to the present, the brunette shook her head. Absentmindedly, she turned her head, eyes never leaving the screen. "Hmmm?"

Taking the brunette's response as a sign of encouragement for her to go on, Hikaru coughs and continues her cries. "There are ants on my wall! Oh my gosh, there are ants on my wall! Help! Please Mikan!"

An eyebrow quirked, Mikan's hand nudged the wired mouse on the desk. As she half-listened to the younger girl's high-pitched squawks, she opened a Google Chrome browser.

"Mikan!"

"One moment," Mikan murmured, eyes scanning the screen. Herself being scared of ants, she had quickly typed in _'homemade ant killer'_ via Google Search. Disliking the endless list of ideas listed on a random page of Pinterest, she skipped to WikiHow. Taking one look at the white-and-green logo, the brunette's mouth twitched as a large **How to Kill Ants without Pesticides **in bold took over a third of the screen.

"Hey, can't you just ask Takashi?" she asked.

"What? _No_! That guy will tease me to no end! Can't you please just help me?" Her shrieks echoed throughout the house.

Mikan teateasedses, "To shy? Or lazy? He's just a few steps away from you. But fine, one moment!"

"He's not home! Shut up."

A banging made itself known. "Can't you two dollydonkers just be quiet for even five minutes? Unless you want me to magically lower your grades, I suggest you two to shut up."

How Hotaru managed to install speakers throughout the house remained a mystery to the rest of the inhabitants under the same roof.

"Sorry Hotaru!"

_When you open your cabinets and see ants swarming your spilled sugar, it might be tempting to use strong chemicals to take them all out as soon as possible._

Gross.

"Mikan!" Hikaru's voice sounded nearly desperate now. "I killed some but… Are you trying to…?"

Unable to catch her next phrase, Mikan quickly scans through the list.

_**Use dish soap and water. **__Fill a water bottle with one part dish soap and two parts water, then shake it up to mix the solution thoroughly. When you see a line of ants (or just one ant, for that matter) spray the mixture over them. They'll immediately halt and suffocate. Wipe up the dead ants with a wet cloth, and keep the spray bottle around for next time._

Mikan read through the rest of the page slowly. **Try vinegar and water.** Gross again. Reeling back up, she hummed, "Hey, use dish soap and water."

"What?"

"Soap! Soap and water."

"Okay!" She called down the stairs, "One moment!"

_**Make a lemon juice solution.**_ Thanks but no thanks, Wiki.

_**Sprinkle diatomaceous earth inside the house.**_"What the heck is that?" Mikan muttered under her breath. Hoping that no one was spying on her, she attempted to pull off the word, "'Die-a-toe-may-sheesh.' 'Ditto-malicious.' Geez, nope. Doesn't work."

"So soap and water?"

Tackling an itch on her neck, Mikan turned her head slightly before pushing off of her chair. "Yeah, soap and water."

As the agitated girl ran down the stairs two at a time, Mikan ambled down the hall. Hearing the latter pull open cabinets and running water, she said, "Using Benji's spray bottle?"

Mikan turned into the kitchen, nodding with a simple "Yeah sure," as she watched the green-eyed girl screw the cap to the see-through bottle of bubbly pink soap.

Hikaru shook the bottle and jogged back up the stairs with Mikan close behind. Reaching the top of the stairs, the pair took a sharp turn to the left and entered her room. As Mikan surveyed the light green walls, nothing seemed particularly off.

"Next to the toilet," Hikaru explained as she stepped into her bathroom cautiously and peaked at the floor and walls.

Shaking stray strands of hair out of the way, my gaze lingers on a pile of clothes lying on a nearby chair, a laugh escapes me.

Stepping behind her, Mikan glanced around. Staring up the beige walls, there was no evident sign of critter life.

Hikaru gave the bottle a few sprays and turns to looked at her friend. "I already killed some of them."

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, Mikan grinned at the lean girl. The brunette grabbed the bottle and scrutinized the sink. Peering down, she wondered aloud, "Is that an ant?"

Hikaru shrieked quietly as she follows Mikan's gaze, tilting her head to the side. "I think so. Wait," She lwaned forward and squinted, "No. It's not." Her large eyes danced with laughter as she sees Mikan raise the foamy bottle.

"Yes it's an ant! It's an ant!" Mikan blinked continuously into the sink, gaze never leaving the black speck.

The large pair of viridescent eyes twinkled before the owner burst into a fit of laughter, "No it's not."

Mikan gave her a lopsided beam and sprayed the black speck anyway.

"That's," Hikaru hiccupped, laughter shaking her body, "Just a piece of paper!"

Once again, Mikan just shrugged and looked up at her reflection. Disliking what she saw, the brunette turned away.

"Oh well." Shooting her friend another Cheshire-cat grin, Mikan dropped the bottle and patted Hikaru's head. "Well, have fun. I should go study now. Serina's going to kill me if I don't get those bloody essays turned in."

Dressed in a set of loose-fitting lime-colored clothes, Hikaru held the bottle close, and returned Mikan's smile. Mouth turning up into a wide, angelic beam, Hikaru engulfed the brunette in a hug. "Thank you, Mikan! You're the best! And show that Jin-head who's boss!"

Turning to leave, Mikan rolled her eyes and nodded. "Sure thing, kid."

Stepping out of the bedroom, Mikan shot a quick glance towards the direction of another friend's room. Shaking her head, she smiled to herself in consolation. Descending the stairs, she settled comfortably into the wooden chair once again.

* * *

"How long will it be?"

Out of habit, Mikan puckered her lips and shrugged. "It'll be of let's say – appropriate length." She had abandoned her earlier resolve of typing her drafts into the computer and had since busied herself to drafting on notebook paper.

Cocking her head to the side, Hikaru quipped, "So it won't be short?"

"Nope."

"What is it about?"

Mikan paused before considering her answer. A distant dash of remorse tinting her voice, she said, "'You don't know what you've got till it's gone.' Now, don't you have homework to do?"

Sitting atop her feet, Hikaru's eyes widened impossibly, ignoring Mikan's question. "Ooooh," she said, stretching her _o_ vowel uncannily. Blinking in confusion, she wondered aloud, "What exactly is it about?"

Mikan shrugged hesitantly. "Experiences, observations, and anything else of the like. Whether or not I agree with it, and well, yeah."

"Is it a quote?"

"Joni Mitchell." The answer was short, automatic, and careful.

Knowing not to overstep the boundary, Hikaru eventually deviated towards the main reason she came. "Can you make the cake thingy?"

Eyes glued to her leaden pencil, Mikan continued penning. "What ca—Oh that cake. Sure."

Hikaru nodded eagerly, her elatedness spreading into her eyes. "We can share it with Hotaru and Takashi! He called earlier and said that he would be back within half an hour." Hikaru wrinkled her nose. "Except he didn't take the car… so maybe he grew magical powers and can now fly. But whatever," She continued babbling, "The point is, I want the four of us to share!"

What a sweet kid. "Sure. But I'll put some Nutella so it won't be so bitter."

Hikaru's forehead creases, playing with the ends of her hair. Initial frown turning upside down, she grinned, "Okay!"

Mikan breathed into a smile. "Alright. Later?"

Wilting slightly, the emerald-eyed girl blinked dejectedly.

"I need to finish this," Mikan added, unable to withstand her friend's pout. Quickly glancing at the time, it read 3:02. "Next hour?"

Bursting into a smile, Hikaru grinned and for a split second, wraps the brunette in a gaze filled with both admiration and love. To Mikan, the gaze was one of familiarity and foreignism.

"Fine," She beams, stretching out the long _i_ sound.

After jotting in a few phrases, Mikan twisted around and stared into her friend's large, hopeful eyes. Gesturing towards the white mug in her hands, Mikan asks, "What's that?"

Eyes twinkling, Hikaru continues clinking a spoon against her mug. "Nothing."

"Really?"

With a light laugh, she answered, "It's just water."

Mikan snorted disbelievingly.

"Really!"

The raven-headed girl hopped off her initial spot on the squeaky bench and in one leap, reached Mikan's place on the wooden chair.

In a teasing voice, Mikan grins, "You could make hot chocolate, you know."

The girl dismissed Mikan's thought with a faint shake of her head. She held the cup up to the brunette's nose.

Mikan blinked. Seeing the clear substance and a flowery spoon, a laugh highlights her features. _Water._

Swirling the spoon in her cup, Hikaru's large eyes blinked innocently as she bounded away.

"Always so happy and innocent," Mikan murmured under her breath.

Within several minutes, another interruption wracked the brunette's attention

The creak of the floorboard and the sound of someone breathing caused her to turn from her seat.

Making no move to rise from her chair, a welcoming smile tugged at Mikan's lips. "Hey."

The figure leaned lazily against the door frame crossed his arms. His steel-blue hair was combed neatly behind his ears. "'Hey' yourself, Duck." He nods towards Mikan's desk. "How's that paper coming along?"

Mikan glanced down at her pages. "Eh, it's alright." Scratching her head meekly, she kept her gaze on the paper.

"Stuck?"

"I'm running out of ideas. The stupid draft didn't help either."

A deep chuckle rumbled from behind.

"Shut up Takashi. I'm trying to focus."

"That's a lie, Fishy."

"Stop calling me Fishy; wasn't it Ducky?" Mikan scowled before stabbing the innocent pencil with an annoyed thumb.

"Hm, someone is touchy today. It's the time of the month, isn't it?" Takashi's voice is teasing, but Mikan's scowl still hasn't worn off.

Chewing on the insides of her lip, she growled, "And I am _not_ on my period."

"I didn't say you were." The dark-haired teenager strode up behind the brunette.

"Go away."

"Why?"

"I'm busy."

Both hands grasped against his chest, Takashi gasped mockingly. "That is not how you treat your elderly!"

Mikan snorted, paying her housemate no mind. "You're not even two years older. Big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal!" He gasped, grey eyes clouding with indignity. "During those many months, a woman could get pregnant and have a healthy baby."

Mikan scowled, "Takashi!"

"Loosen up, kiddo."

"Just shut up."

"Geez, it really must be that time of the month," He muttered. "You're no fun."

Mikan's gaze suddenly lit up. She pushed back ecstatically from her chair and beamed at the perplexed man behind her. "You gave me a wonderful idea."

Takashi raised an eyebrow, "Huh?"

"Yeah. Now get out of here before I kindly request Hotaru to decapitate you."

"Nah, she loves me too much."

Rolling her eyes, Mikan waved her hand dismissively. "While you continue dreaming, I still have Wednesday's assignment to complete. Now shoo!"

Soon enough, Takashi was shoved out of the room, a grin stretching his features and a jaunty tune upon his lips.

* * *

After an hour had ticked pass, a bouncy sixteen-year-old returned, a benevolent smile upon her face. Catching sight of the scattered sheets of paper before Mikan, she blinked. "Wow, that's long."

The brunette shushed her. "It's not done yet; you can't read it."

Hikaru pouted. Eyes lighting up suddenly, she remarked, "There's a woman with a babeh!"

Mikan laughed at the girl's purposeful drawl as she twists to the left in her seat. Sure enough, a woman in a neon green raincoat was jogging slowly up the street, a baby slung across her chest. Hikaru chortled as the brunette shamelessly joined in.

Wordlessly, Hikaru disappeared. A few moments later, she returned, effervescent as ever.

"Okay. Now it's cake time!" The energetic girl bounded up to Mikan's wooden desk a second time.

"Have you ever been told that you are incredibly distracting?" The clock read 3:49. "It hasn't been an hour yet."

"So one more second?"

The brunette pulled her mouth into a long mock frown. "4:00, Roo."

"Oh eleven minutes?"

Mikan nodded distractedly. "Yeah, sure. Twenty-six minutes would be better of course..." she trailed off.

"Okay!"

Without another word, Hikaru was gone.

Mikan shook her head and returned to her not-even-nearly-finished paper.

Pausing, her fingers strayed from her messy handwriting. Fumbling with an orange folder, she pulled a blank sheet of paper from its insides and folded it in half.  
Jumping at the sudden ring of her cellphone, she glanced at the unfamiliar Caller ID, her eyebrows furrowed and contemplates on ignoring it. Deciding that someone it was merely a wrong number, she picked up a pencil, shook her head clear of unwelcome thoughts, and continued writing.

* * *

At a quarter past four, Hikuru discreetly stepped into the room.

Hearing her silent feet, Mikan quickly shoves her unfinished drawing under the keyboard. Looking up, she says, "Coming, coming. Give me one more minute."

Voicing her actions aloud, Hikaru grinned, "Smiles."

At 4:16, the impatient teenager finally dragged Mikan to the kitchen.

As the two girls stood around the kitchen, Mikan absentmindedly asked if Hikaru would prefer to bake the cake herself.

She shook her head quickly. "Why else would I be bugging you so much?"

"Because it's Saturday and apparently, you do not have classes _or homework_. Now, Colorful or tin?"

"I needed a break, _mom_," she mocked. "I've got a plan, don't worry about my schoolwork."

Mikan flicked the oven on preheat. "Mmmhm."

She stepped into the pantry, mixing bowl in one hand. Hikaru watched intently as she leaned against the counter.

Content, she asked, "Will it be like the one you made when I was sick?"

Unscrewing the lid to a jar of sugar, Mikan asked herself the same question. "Hm, I don't know. Might be bitter," she said, grinning lopsidedly.

"Aww," Hikaru pouted, "But don't put syrup okay?"

It was the brunette's turn to pull a face. "Yeah, syrup's disgusting." _In this cake anyway._

Pressing the cap back onto the container of unsweetened cocoa, fine granules of baking powder found its way into the batter.

"That's a lot of sugar," Hikaru remarked.

"Unless you want a bitter chocolate cake," Mikan teased as she sprinkled more sugar into the mixture.

Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Hikaru turned and stood in front of the sink. "Only put a tiny bit of Nutella, okay?"

"Sure," the brunette replied idly.

Bouncing up and down like a puppy, Hikaru grinned toothily, "Two eggs?"

"Yup. Maybe even three."

Hikaru turned away from the fridge with the leftover milk in one hand and eggs in the other. Reaching forward, she removed the bottle of vanilla from a compartment and shut the black refrigerator door.

"Vanilla extract too?" Hikaru asked curiously, large verdant eyes sparkling.

"Yep. As always, dummy."

"Hey, I didn't know! Besides, the one you made with last time was disgusting. Oh, and," she added, "We're running out of food. You have to go shopping."

"I'm not the caretaker of the family; you can go. Besides, my _masterpiece_ wasn't disgusting! I was just experimenting." Truth be told, it _was_ disgusting, and both girls knew it.

Mikan dropped the last of the milk and a several teaspons of vanilla into the bowl. "Mix it?" she inquired, head tilted towards her friend.

Hikaru nodded eagerly, clearly happy. She kept her gaze on the cake batter before breaking the silence. "It looks like meat," she stated matter-of-factly.

Mikan peered into the bowl. Sure enough, the flour mixture and egg yolk created a rather unpleasant brown-ish color.

"Yeah it does," she laughed. "Hurry up Kangaroo, the oven is waiting."

"Are you going to put salt?"

Mikan blinked. Making 'hm' sound in the back of my throat, she agreed. "Thanks for reminding me."

"Hey Roo," The older girl peers over her friend's shoulder, "You done yet?"

She nodded and steps aside. "Yep."

Dipping one finger into the batter, Mikan muttered, "Not sweet enough."

"You were the one who mixed it."

"You try it."

Unsure, Hikaru complied. "It's okay…" Turning on the faucet, she rinsed her mouth, disliking the thought of uncooked egg whites roaming her intestines.

Stepping back into the emptying, Mikan removed the container of hazelnut spread from a shelf. Sticking a spoon into the nearly-empty container, she stingily scooped up a third of what was left.

As the sticky substance slid resistantly into the clear bowl, Hikaru made a face. "How much did you put?"

"Not much."

"Okay... It better not be too sweet."

_Nonsense!_ "It won't," Mikan assured her, tucking her brown hair behind her ears.

Sticking another finger into the batter, Mikan tasted it again. "I think this'll work."

Thin lips stretching wide, Hikaru prompted the older girl to hurry up and bake the batter already.

Somewhere down the hall, in his own study, Mikan heard Takashi chatting his life away on the phone.

She shook her head and shuffled towards the oven.

Hotaru entered the kitchen in a black top and sweat pants. Clear goggles sitting atop her head, she took one look at the muffin tin in the brunette's hands.

"What are you idiots making?" she asked calmly.

Behind the brunette, Hikaru mutters a muffled, "Something."

Mikan shrugged and says, "Nothing much."

As soon as the muffins slid into the oven, she leaned against the back door absentmindedly. Turning her head, she peeked out the window before proceeding her habitual staring at the oven. Fetching her notebook, she returned, and sat herself on the wooden floor.

The warmth emanating from the oven reminded her of the autumn sun dipping below the horizon. Fifteen minutes came and left as memories to clouded her vision, pushing her to write _something_.

Unwilling to be distracted, the brunette silently listened to her friends' conversation… If one could even call nonsensical chatter a '_conversation_.'

Twenty-five minutes later, twelve warm chocolate cupcakes sit snugly against one another on a paper plate.

"I will take Takashi's cakes."

"Geez, I'm here. I'm here. No need to steal my portion of that delicious smelling ccupcake, Imai," the silver-eyed lad joked.

Feeling something alien tug at her heart, Mikan frowned at herself. Refusing to meet Takashi's gaze, she glanced at her best friend. "We wanted something sweet," she shrugged simply.

Hikaru beamed cheekily as she pops a bite of muffin into her mouth. Eyes shining, she mumbled in pleasure, "Zish ish ood."

Mikan grabbed a cupcake. "Hotaru, Takashi, enjoy!"

With that, the brunette ducked down the hallway and disappeared.

"Well, stay and jabber all you want," Hotaru said, "I have my work to do." Swiping another chocolate cupcake from the plate, she nodded curtly at the remaining duo and took her leave. She shut the door behind her and descended into the basement.

"Seriously?"

Hikaru leaned against the counter, still clad in her earlier outfit of green. "What's wrong with Mikan?"

Takashi shrugged in his blue t-shirt. "Pass me a cupcake."

"By taking this cupcake, you promise to tell me about Mikan."

Accepting the brown cake held out to him, he muttered, "Yeah, sure. Whatever you insist." Turning to leave, "Is that all you have to ask? It may be Saturday tomorrow, but we still have to study tonight."

"Wait, Takashi."

The male paused in his footsteps, acknowledging that he was listening.

"Before all this, did you know her?" She ventured forth cautiously, not wanting to broach too much upon the evidently sensitive subject.

"Know her?"

"Before all this," an exasperated sigh escapes her lips, "Before Uni, were you and Mikan friends?"

"I…" He inhaled, "Ah, how to explain this," He shook his head. "Never mind." Shaking his head again, as if to convince himself, he replies, "Not quite."

"What do you know about her?"

He shrugged stiffly. "More than what you know from these past six months."

"Five-and-a-half," she corrected.

Not allowing Hikaru to continue, he cut her off, his silver eyes unreadable. "I need to go. Go do whatever you have to do."

Hikaru was left standing in the kitchen, clutching a half-eaten cupcake, blinking confusedly.

* * *

_**A/N: **I'M BACK! Yes, I have rebooted Of Vanilla and Sandalwood. From here on out, I can be expected to update monthly; once spring rolls around, however, I may be able to update more often._  
_Much gratitude to all of you who accepted my semi-hiatus without much complaint and yoda-yoda-this, yoda-yoda-that. Reviews are truly appreciated! Consider leaving one? ;)_

_HE_


	2. Of Distance and Irritation

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice nor the characters. The story is entirely mine though.**

**A/N: If any of you have the heart to read my yammering, my heart goes out to you – Thank you! For some odd reason, it looked as if I had updated earlier but in truth, I was deleting the first chapter that was titled "This story is under Revision," because that is no longer necessary! (I'm not sure why it showed as an update… My apologies for the false alarm.) Aaaaand... Thank you for your patience!**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Of Distance and Irritation**

* * *

"Hurry up! We'll be late!"

The room was supposed to resemble that of a living room, or perhaps a family room would better fit; one really wouldn't be able to tell the difference with the modern, elegantly-furnished area. Early-afternoon sunlight wafted through the blinds, basking the dark-red curtains nearby with a timeless glow.

The wide expanse of a room boasted of style and taste, for nothing was neither overtly flashy nor conceited.

Towards the back of the room, a raised stage stood shyly against the wall. The curtains surrounding it enclosed perhaps the flashiest object possible: a Schimmel Pegasus. The sleek, curved grand instrument seemed rather out-of-place on the humble stage, for it boasted of wealth and confidence.

Two sets of gold-tinted couches perched upon a large, circular carpet; its borders were decorated with simple, dark patterns of curves and stems. The couches curved towards one another, forming a circle as it beckoned any viewer to take a moment and inhale its beauty. Atop a glass table in the center sat several unlit candles; the scent of cinnamon lingered in the room.

Several notable painting reprints hung against the few walls of white, alternating with the glass windows. Slightly separating the two couches, quite a distance from the glass table, two coffee-colored seats sat regally beside one another. The elegant wooden legs were intricately carved; it offered no shame to the room.

The cheerful adolescent dressed in a rather… colorful array of colors seemed out of place in the regal setting. She, however, moved through carpet deftly, suggesting that she was accustomed to such settings.

"Says the girl who takes pleasure in oversleeping."

She bristled evidently. "Hey, it's not _my _fault that my bed is just irresistibly comfortable!" As her patterned socks met with the ivory fur carpet, the mishmash of colors clashed drastically.

"I'll show you _comfortable_." A low mutter radiates off the couch to her left.

"What, you meanie?"

"Nothing. That's stupid."

The teenager gave a hurt sniff. "Me or the bed?"

A pair of lazy crimson eyes scanned her dejected form. "Both," came the unaffected reply.

The girl refused to back down. "Yeah well, if you're referring to my _innocent_ bed," She pointed an accusing index finger at her brother, "Then I would suggest for you stop hurting his feelings."

"Oh, so it's a _he_?" he mocked.

The dark-haired girl scowled. Feet digging into the carpet, she moved lividly towards her brother, unceremoniously stubbing her toe against a sofa leg as she slapped his arm. Wincing at the pain her foot sustained, she muttered crossly, "Pervert."

"Hey Aoi, I said nothing." Shrugging, he returned to his laptop.

Veering back to the earlier subject, she took up her stance. Hands on her hips, she ignored her protesting toe. "You're the asshole who doesn't even sleep for even a damn second on any given day."

Ignoring his nagging sister's comment on his sleeping habits, he crossed his legs atop one another, propping them against the glass table before him. "Language, little girl, language."

"That's not fair!" The girl shook her cropped hair. Shrugging into a mocha-colored bowknot blazer she had towed along with her, her mouth refused to cease complaining. "You yourself have a colorful mouth."

Once again, he ignored his younger sibling's comment. Glancing atop his laptop, he said indifferently, "That doesn't match," referring to the brown jacket atop a rainbow-patterned t-shirt.

The girl huffed. "Yes it does!" With a stomp, she snapped, "I wasn't asking for your opinion anyway. It's cute, thank you very much."

"No."

She scowled, "Can't we just go to the mall already? Forget about what I'm wearing! Besides, I can dress in whatever I want!"

"I'm not taking you out."

With an unladylike snort, the dark-haired girl stuck her nose in the air. "You promised thought." She paused mid-thought, "Fine, I can drive myself then."

"You can't and you won't."

Upon hearing her sibling's short words, she gave an exasperated sigh and tore off her jacket. "I have my _license_!" Throwing her hands in the air, her toe pled for her to stay put. "What should I wear then, _brother_?" she mocked.

"Anything but that shit. Go change."

"See! You have a foul mouth!" Acknowledging the second part of his statement, her scowl deepened. "_Why_ should I go change?!"

"Because I say so."

"'_Because I say so,_'" she growled mockingly. "Just because you're a guy, older than me, and happen to be my brother?"

Lips drawn into a grim line, her brother's face remained passive. "Yes, go change because I am a guy. I have better tastes. You have a twisted sense of logic, even for a girl."

"Sexist pig," she muttered. "It's not _my_ tastes you're judging anyway, you know, Natsume?"

"And you think I don't know that? Your tastes are worse."

Nursing her bruised pride, she glared at her brother. Without thinking, she spewed, "But Mikan gave it to me! I love this jacket! Besides—" Quickly realizing what she said, her eyes widened considerably as a hand flew hastily to her mouth.

Expression unchanging, her brother gave a flick of his hand. "You look pathetic, goldfish face. Are we going or not?" Glancing at the time, he pushed his own thoughts away as he failed to lighten his sister's guilt. "We can get lunch."

Not knowing what to say, Aoi's shoulders sagged as she stole a quick glimpse at her indifferent brother. Unaccustomed to his evident act of empathy, she squeaked meekly. Shuffling, she bent down quickly to retrieve her discarded jacket.

Natsume grunted, "Don't wear that, you idiot."

* * *

"Natsumeeeee." Aoi purposefully drawled the last vowel in hopes of getting her brother's attention. Throwing herself against the opposite side of the leathery couch, she groaned.

"If you're going to moan, either get out or shut up."

Shooting her brother a dirty look, she hugged a pillow to her chest. "Arse," she mumbled.

She heard her brother snort.

"What, _brother_? Finally deemed me worthy to be talking to, huh?"

"I'm washing your mouth with soap." Despite his threat, Natsume made no move to get up from the couch as he continued sitting in front of laptop.

Somewhat relieved and hopeful that he had forgotten their earlier ordeal, she scoffed, "Yeah right. You're all bark and no bite."

He shrugged. "You're all whine and no work." Typing something into his keyboard, he raised an eyebrow at his sister's sudden, uncharacteristic silence.

As he scanned the page before him lazily, the silence dissipated.

"You dirty-mouthed pig."

"Geez woman, good to hear that you don't have a heart attack." In return, he received an eye roll from his sister. Feeling the need to provoke her even further, he drawled, "Besides, you're not my wife," he paused, "Or are you? With your nagging and all, you know."

Aoi jumped away from the sofa, shoving the pillow in his face. "You incestuous monster! Who _gave_ you ideas like that?!" she shrieked, "You're a madman!" Eyes glistening with horror, she glared at her merciless brother.

Amusement glinting in his eyes, he shrugged as he remained silent.

"So we're not going to the mall?" Aoi mewled after a while.

"Stop pestering me."

"Why are you so moody? You said we could!"

She received no answer.

Undeterred, she tried again. "You said we could get food though." Poking her brother in the back, she tugged at his shirt collar. "Please?"

"You were moping earlier. Seeing that your foul attitude as improved, shut up."

Aoi scowled. "It was only because of the idea of food! You shouldn't break your promises."

He gave a lopsided shrug and minimized a tab before him.

From behind, Aoi suddenly snatched the innocent laptop. Standing a few feet away from her brother, she blinked at the screen. "Uh… what's this?"

Natsume turned on the couch, swiping for his property. "It's nothing. Give it back, idiot."

"Hmmm… why?"

The dark-haired lad scowled. "Because."

"Because what?" Stepping towards the door behind her, she stood at the entrance, scanning the screen's content.

"Aoi." Her brother's voice was dangerously low.

Unmindful of the silent eruption bubbling under Natsume's breath, the stubborn girl nodded at the screen, raising her eyebrows once in a while. "Well, at least it isn't porn," she managed to say.

Darting towards his sister, Natsume snagged the laptop and returned to his seat. Glaring at his sibling, he gave up and shut the MacBook with a snap.

"You have questions." He raised an eyebrow and raked a hand through his messy hair, expectance coating his voice.

Shaking her head quickly, Aoi muttered, "No siree."

Once again, Natsume shrugged. Nodding towards the door leading to the other rooms of the house, he jerked a thumb in the same direction. "Let's go."

Aoi stayed glued to her spot as Natsume grunted before tucking the laptop under one arm. Grunting, he made his exit.

Natsume had never taken an obvious liking to his sister's whereabouts. She, however, took pride in irking her older brother dutifully, making sure that he never neglected his health or his mind.

Sucking in a breath, she flopped onto the nearby couch and toyed with her blue sweater. After her argument with Natsume, she had obediently changed into a light-blue jersey with the logo _Blue_ across it. She knew that despite never showing it, he worried over her; his irritated voice always vibrated off the phone if she was ever unfortunate to be late; he would silently tuck her in when he thought she was asleep; he would leave small, rather endearing – and unassuming –gifts all over the house for her to find. He did all this, and always ended up bringing it up in the most unpleasant way with remarks during undesirable moments.  
Such remarks included instances when he would say, "You drool," out of the blue, or "I never knew you liked strawberries," during the midst of dinner.

That was why the crimson-eyed girl was worried when a list of familiar names was matched with their corresponding owners when she snatched his MacBook. He had never said a single word regarding his past friends. In fact, if she could recall correctly, he'd rarely bring up any matter that was related to himself; that was Aoi's job.

But if he didn't speak, that didn't mean that he didn't have a brain.

Aoi chuckled humorlessly to herself at the wishful thought of her brother lacking a brain. Musing to herself, she decided to put off her jumbled thoughts.

A tuft of black hair emerged from the door. Feeling a pair of hands grip her shoulders, she was shaken from her chance.

"Earth to Aoi, idiot."

"Huh?"

Natsume gave an exasperated sigh, "The mall, stupid."

"Oh! R-Right." Dashing for the garage, she shouted behind her, "Let's go!"

Massaging his temples, he called, "Bring your wallet. Dessert is on you."

"Whatever!"

* * *

"How do you like, well, like, _not_ like Taylor Swift?"

"She's sexist." Natsume sighed for the nth time, he himself not at all caring for the blonde singer.

"No she's not!"

One hand maneuvering the steering wheel expertly, Natsume rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah?"

Aoi leaned back against her seat, "Well, duh. Why else would she be such a famous singer?"

"Some silly singer who sings about breakups and wistful love," he recited – it was not the first time Aoi had proclaimed her admiration for Taylor Swift.

"Shut up, she's amazing."

"Sure, in your world." Easing the car into a standstill, Natsume waited for a traffic light to turn green. Fishing out his phone, he scrolled through his messages, brow crinkling.

"What is it?"

Natsume ignored his sister and dropped the phone into a cup holder. "Nothing."

"Natsume?"

An irritated response escapes his lips. "Yeah?"

"Well… I was wondering…"

Her brother remained silent as he swerved to avoid a confused pedestrian.

"You're acting like a girl," she blurted out.

Natsume hummed in response, not paying the girl much mind.

"Hey Natsume, on your compu—"

"We're here." Amidst the screeching of tires and the forceful slam of breaks, they had arrived at the spacious mall.

Aoi continued sitting in the passenger, eyes glued out the window. She sighed. _Maybe later._

Her brother had already exited the car; he was leaning against the hood and waiting silently for his sluggish little sister.

Baseball cap and a pair of shades in one hand, she kicked the door open before stepping out.

"Hey Natsume, wait a sec!"

He turned, brows furrowed.

Aoi dunked the cap on her brother and managed to smile. "Would you rather be overrun with morbid lovers or a fashionable hat? I'd recommend you to go with the latter, Mr. Moody."

When Natsume said nothing, the teenager shrugged to herself and flipped on the pair of shades.

As their weekly routine, the siblings treated one another to much-coveted sweets. _Coveted_ in Aoi's part; _seemingly_ forced on Natsume's. As she teetered beside her brother's long strides, it was too much to contain her happiness. Handing him his own strawberry cone, she eagerly began licking her mint chocolate ice cream. Unmindful of her brother's silence, the girl absentmindedly chewed on the crumbly cookie topping.

The alleged ice cream parlor was a place of the siblings' pastime. They had spent nearly every sunny summer afternoon of their young years experimenting with new flavors as they childishly dared one another to ask whichever employee for their phone numbers. The adults working there slowly learned to enjoy their company; despite the Hyuuga children being well, Hyuugas, the young children's company was a cherry atop a dessert. Perhaps it was the doing of their surname; maybe it was Aoi's charismatic demeanor, but whatever the reason, they were received with open arms.

"Aoi."

Licking her sticky fingers, the girl blinked in response. Looking up from her half-finished treat, she cocked her head to the side. "Mmm?"

Eyeing his sister's cone bluntly, he said, "You gonna finish that, slowpoke?"

A playful grin tugged at her mouth, "Of course!"

"Hurry up."

"Sheesh, alright, alright."

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a similar fashion. As Natsume toiled silently by his sister's side, she gushed over countless numbers shirts, skirts, and the like. More window shopping than actual purchasing, her brother slowly began to tire.

"Remind me why I'm here again."

"Mmm," Aoi fingered a dress before her. "Didn't I already tell you?"

Natsume rubbed a tired eye. With a sigh, he tossed his empty Starbucks cup into a nearby trashcan. "I forgot. Enlighten me, if you will."

Aoi continued to admire the simple, one-shouldered cocktail dress in front of her. As she nodded in satisfaction, she made a mental note to herself. This was a dress worth buying _as well as_ spinning inspiration from. Turning back to her brother, she said smoothly, "Well, parties and even designing."

"No parties for you, young lady."

With a sigh, the teenager turned away from the dress. "I meant get-togethers." Hesitating for a moment, she said, "Mom told me to 'wear something pretty.'"

Natsume groaned beside her. "It will take you several lifetimes to find something suitable to her tastes."

"Which is why I dragged you along. Make yourself useful and tell me if that over there looks good," she pointed at a ball gown several meters away. It fitted the mannequin perfectly; the scarlet fabric was beautiful. The tight, red bodice featured dozens of silver beads, decorating its upper curves handsomely, generously. Reaching the waist, there was another cluster of iridescent silver. Puffing out towards the middle, it fell in large, gentle ruffles. Needless to say, the ball gown was absolutely stunning.

Natsume gave the clothing a lazy glance. Not too repelled, he gave a slow nod of approval. It was his silent way of saying that the dress suited his tastes.

And yet almost uncannily, this dress summoned bits and pieces of bittersweet memories. Mood suddenly sour, he looked away from the dress, refusing to speak.

Aoi, noticing the air of change her brother was displaying, stepped forward. Giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, she said, "Let's come back next time."

Dragging him out of the store, the red-eyed girl directed a polite nod at the supposed bespectacled manager and stepped into the late-afternoon sun.

Leading her quiet, perhaps even childish, brother to their black two-passenger BMW parked in the distance, she discarded the cup that once held her drink. Shaking her head at her elder sibling's silence, she snatched the keys from her brother's back pocket.

_So much for shopping._

Shrugging it off, she threw the door open and shoved him in. "I'm driving, big guy."

Natsume said nothing as the engine revved to life.

He remained silent, even when Aoi nearly crashed his prized automobile.

* * *

"Natsume, I want to go visit Dad." The silence had become to bear for the loud girl. During the last few minutes of what she deemed silent treatment, it felt as if minutes had dragged into hours.

All she received was a half-hearted grunt.

Her temper flared; the female pulled the car to the side of the road. Stepping on the brakes, she turned her head to look at her brother. Taking up the role as the elder sister, she flicked her brother's forehead. "Look here, mister. Stop moping and get yourself together."

Natsume said nothing as he unclicked his seatbelt and kicked the door open. Stepping out, he slammed the passenger door, wordlessly leaning against it.

Exasperated, Aoi followed in suite. Deftly switching off the ignition, she pocketed the keys.

"Natsume. Look at me."

"What is it, oh almighty queen?"

"What's wrong with you?" Aoi snapped. "You've been odd all day," she held up a hand, "Don't give me the 'mind your own business, hag' crap or 'Shut up.'" She crossed her arms. "I'm your sister, dammit! I deserve to know!" Underlining her statement, she quickly uncrossed her arms and slammed an irate hand against the car's hood.

"You sure are pushy all of a sudden." Natsume looked away, pocketing his thumbs. As his tousled hair moved with the light breeze, he took a sudden interest with the weeds growing by the roadside.

Aoi raked a hand through her tangled hair. "Fine then. _Fine_!" She threw her hands up. Unable to quell her emotions, she kicked at a nearby pebble and sent it into the trees.

Natsume, as always, remained silent.

"It's been what, more than half a year already?" she said quietly. "Have you still not gotten over it?" Motivated by his silence, she continued, "It's been eight months, Natsume. Eight months. It's evident that she's not returning to you!

"You wait for her calls every day, _every single goddamn day_; you dream that she'll return to you; you think that you can't move on. You're overreacting. You—"

"—Don't. Don't talk like that."

"No! Natsume, think. Just _think_! She did nothing wrong! _You_ cheated on her—"

"—It's not like that." Natsume gritted his teeth. His dark hair fell in large sweeps over his forehead; disgust evident in his eyes, he repeated, "It's not like that. I would never—"

"Then tell me, _tell_ me, Natsume," she challenged, "_What_ is it like? No, enlighten me; what _was_ it like?"

Wordlessly, her brother closed his eyes and took a long breath. His lips formed a taut line, unwilling to speak. His thoughts were drowned with faint, lingering scents of tangerine and strawberries; his senses were overwhelmed by her soft brown hair and her small, strong hands gripped around his neck.

"This morning," Aoi started, "This morning, on the computer. You were looking for her, weren't you? Her picture, even _Hotaru's_ picture was on there. Why, Natsume? Why are you wasting your time still waiting, still looking, for her?" Irritated with her brother's lack of communication, she kicked the tires.

Momentarily distracted with the pain, she bit out bitterly, "What am I _doing_?"

Natsume, who remained silent all this time, spoke up, albeit speaking unlike himself. Voice gruff, he demanded, "Why do you even care?"

Fury was evident in the younger sibling's voice. "Why do I care? _Why do I care?!_ Natsume! That question is so fucking basic! You're my brother; of course I care! What do you take me for, a robot? I'm more than that, Natsume. _I'm more than that._"

Hearing what he wanted to hear, he said in a low voice, "So it's because you're my sister that you care."

"Of course! You're such an idiot!"

Head raised, he said levelly, "If that's the case. Then I suggest you stop pestering me. You know why?"

His next statement slapped Aoi across the face, for he threw her words back at her in a foreign, distant manner.

"—Because I _don't want you to care. _I don't need you to."

* * *

"I fear not ma'am and," the nurse addressed the raven-haired male, "sir. Mr. Hyuuga will see no more visitors today."

Dominant, Natsume, spoke over his sister. Dissatisfied with the lack of information, he crossed his arms expectantly. "Ellaborate."

Surprised, the woman in her mid-thirties blinked. Quickly composing herself, she bowed her head, "My apologies, sir, but the details have been requested to remain undisclosed."

Greatly annoyed by the nurse's answer, he said, "Anything to remain 'undisclosed' will be made known to me."

Gratefully, Aoi remained silent by his side.

Undaunted, the nurse remained stubborn. Adjusting her attire, she tucked a stray strand of yellow hair behind her ear. "I am sorry, sir," she repeated, "But as I said earlier, it has been requested to remain confidential."

Sensing her brother's sensitive nerves, Aoi butted in. "We apologize, Miss…" She trailed off, glancing at her nametag, "Ashima, but please. We only want to see our father."

Ashima turned, heading down the hall. "Good day to you too, ma'am, sir."

As the nurse disappeared down the corridor, Natsume growled. "The woman—"

Aoi laughed humorlessly. "Well, at least you care about Dad…"

"Of course I do. He's my _fucking_ father."

The two siblings continued complaining. _Complaining_ involved Natsume glaring at any curious passerby; Aoi trying in vain to soothe her irate brother.

Soon, the sun was gone; the hospital corridors' artificial lights flickered on.

Half an hour after their arrival, Natsume knocked on their father's hospital room door. Despite Aoi's protests relating to 'rule-breaking,' her annoyed brother had already entered the white-washed room.

The room was a rather comfortable size; a window sat to the far right, decorated plaintively with thin, ivory-colored curtains. Their father's chamber was on the seventh floor – not too low or too high. A set of cushioned chairs sat off to one side; a worn wooden desk perched upon four legs. Several vases of wilted flowers sat on a shelf – only one lone rose was worth looking at.

Then there was the bed. The bed was of nothing fancy; the sheets were a brisk white, a blank monitor was off on the side, and several paper cups completed the look of loneliness in the room.

"Ah, Natsume. Aoi. So the two of you have come. It is great to see you."

The man on the bed was pale and aged beyond his years; his eye bags sagged, the wrinkles on his face suggested old age; only the black-gray hair sitting upon his head offered a look at his true age. He was dressed in a light blue nightgown, the light skin on his arms speckled with tan dots; this man was but the image of healthy. In no way did he resemble his children; in no way did his presence command power and splendor; his once-head-turning looks of youth were gone for as long as he would live upon the earth.

"Hey dad." Natsume's voice remained indifferent, but being his father, Mr. Hyuuga recognized the unspoken care evident in his son's voice.

Aoi, on the other hand, refused to allow her father's aging appearance get in the way of her daughterly love. Perched on the side of the bed, she forgot Natsume's brooding presence.

Speaking at a mile per minute, she wove stories of her last year in high school; she chattered away regarding where she wanted to go in the future. The smile never straying from her face, she animatedly illustrated the party she was hoping to attend. At this, she added something regarding her brother's disapproval of parties, dresses, and people in general.

Mr. Hyuuga said for her to not mind her brother and that it was merely a "phase" — Mr. Hyuuga was fully aware of the reasons behind Natsume's bi-polar mood swings.

Aoi was speaking happily, proclaiming her love for sweets; Mr. Hyuuga's old face was wrinkled into a small smile, enjoying his daughter's company; Natsume sat in a chair, silent, and dark.

At this _cheerful_ 'family reunion,' a figure bustled in.

The woman stood and stared. Then she opened her mouth. Whispering furiously, she said, "What on earth are you two doing here?"

Defiance evident in Aoi's voice, she said, "He's our father. We wanted to see him."

Mr. Hyuuga placed a wrinkled hand on Aoi's shoulder, wordlessly telling her to calm down and asked the incoming woman for an explanation. "Ashima," he began rather pleasantly, "What is going on?"

The nurse sniffed indignantly. "You are in no condition to see these brats."

At this, Mr. Hyuuga inhaled sharply. Voice polite but taut, he said, "If this has anything to do with Kaoru then please stay out of this."

Aoi and Natsume stiffened at the mention of their mother's name; over the years, only Aoi managed to maintain a pleasant daughter-mother relationship with the rich woman. Although the siblings' parents never divorced officially, it was evident that the once-dynamic couple was treading down opposite paths, and love, unfortunately, was not included.

"How long have they been here?"

Mr. Hyuuga coughed throatily and tapped his chest. "Not," he choked slightly, "Not too lung."

"Not too long? Sir, I am your caretaker. I must know the exact length." The nurse tapped her clipboard, "Your speech is getting abnormal. It would fare your health well if you remove your visitors for the time being."

For the first time since Aoi's animated stories, Natsume opened his mouth. "You are not his mother _nor his wife_."

The nurse's head snapped towards him. "You again," she muttered.

Natsume held her gaze. Ignoring his father's faltering stare and Aoi's wonderment, he said, "So who are you?"

"I'm your father's nurse and caretaker, of course," she retorted.

"You are not."

"Of course I am," she repeated heatedly. "I'm a registered nurse working here. What is going on in that brain of yours?" She paused, "Or perhaps, like your father, you have a brain defect."

"My father is absolutely fine, thank you _very much_." Natsume's voice was icy cold. "You, however," he pointed, "Are the problem."

"I'm the nurse. I know what I'm doing."

"God dammit, he's a cannabis addict, not some fucking two-year old! Let me ask you one more time," He placed his hands on the wooden table for emphasis, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Son," Mr. Hyuuga interjected mildly, "Language. Language." Seemingly unperturbed that his son was speaking of him as if he himself weren't in the room, Mr. Hyuuga settled back into his pillows and closed his tired eyes. Blinking several times, his sagging face contorted into an odd expression before he seemingly drifted off to sleep.

The man was ignored.

The nurse gulped. Defending herself, she declared, "I'm a nurse. Just because you are an important Hyuuga, that does not mean you can be some hotheaded barbarian."

During this ordeal, Aoi had wordlessly slipped out the door. Avoiding the argument, she stood outside noiselessly, waiting for her brother's exit.

"Barbarian, you say? Oh this, this," he gestured at himself, "is mild."

"Hush," the nurse muttered harshly, "Your father is asleep. Get out. We'll talk outside."

With a snort, Natsume stayed in front of his chair. "I'll be out in a moment." He had no intentions of further communications with the nurse.

As soon as Ashima had gone, albeit with a sour remark or two, Natsume walked up to his father. Watching the older man's sleeping form, the lad couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse. Placing a cold hand on his father's wrinkled ones, he gave it a silent pat before walking out the door. "Sleep well, father.

"Aoi, let's go."

The girl nodded wordlessly as she trailed behind her brother.

The two arrived on the ground floor and stepped into the night. The night air was crisp and cool; countless stars winked in the distance as the thin moon hung silently, offering comforting solitude.

"So what happened back there with you and Ashima?"

"She's not a nurse," he replied simply.

"So she's an imposter?" Sudden curiosity made Aoi pause in her tracks.

Natsume continued walking. "You can put it that way."

Reaching their car, Aoi puckered her lips, "I'm confused."

"Of course you are, stupid. You haven't gotten a brain in that puny head of yours."

"Pfft, I wish."

"Hey, hand me the keys."

Aoi began protesting, "But I want to drive!"

For the first time that day, a small hint of a smile tugged at Natsume's lips. Despite the darkness, Aoi could hear it in his next words. "Well, the last time you drove, which was only a short while ago, you nearly got us killed. Give me the keys, idiot."

Aoi stuck her tongue out. "Fine, you cocky _prince_! As if you'd drive any better," she huffed.

During most of the twenty-minute cruise home, the siblings maintained a comfortable silence.

"Hey," Natsume jerked his head towards the silhouette in Aoi's hands, "What's that?"

"Oh this?" Aoi held up the newspaper. She shrugged, "Dad said something about you being in it again. He told me to take it. I didn't even know he paid the news much mind."

In his driver's seat, Natsume knitted his brow together. "What are those idiots up to now," he muttered, referring to reporters.

"Oh you know!" Aoi began chirpily, "They're drooling over my sexy brother, spreading useless tidbits about your personal life, and cooing over your _over the top_ intelligence." Before finishing the sentence, she had already burst into a case of guffaws.

Natsume sat up rigidly. His knees taking over the driving wheel, he reached over and flicked his sister's forehead. "You haven't even read it yet, have you?"

"Well… Uh, er… No. Of course not. I was waiting for the perfect opportunity to read it with you!"

"_Read it with me_," he echoed dryly. "That would be _very_ fun."

It wasn't until they pulled into the driveway that Aoi began straightening out the newspaper.

"Natsume, do you have any assignments?"

"Not that I know of, idiot. Why?"

"Well…" Aoi clung to her newspaper bashfully. "May you tuck me in and read the story with me?"

Natsume shot his sister an odd look, locking the car behind him. "Jesus, you're sixteen already."

"Yeah well," Aoi dropped the paper, arms planted on her hips, "You don't see many sixteen year olds in their last year of high school either!"

Natsume cleared his throat. "You cheated," he answered simply.

"What?" Aoi's mouth formed a large 'o' as she stepped in through the front door.

"You cheated."

"Did not!" The girl wacked her brother with newspaper.

Natsume shook off his shoes as he headed for the spiral staircase. "Yes you did."

"It's called being home-schooled, idiot!" Aoi groaned in frustration.

Natsume called from an upstairs room, "Same thing as cheating!"

"You're just jealous!" she singsonged. Aoi gripped the newspaper as she tore up the stairs after her brother, tripping as she reached the last flight. Bursting into his room without knocking, she collided head-first with her brother's bare upper body.

Not feeling the least bit bashful, she whacked him on the chest and crossed to room to plop on his bed. "Hurry up!"

"Eager to sleep with me, eh?"

"Natsume," she growled, "You think you're such a hotshot. Stop being such a pig and hurry up." She shook her black hair and blinked slowly, fixing her challenging eyes on her brother's face.

Amused, Natsume smirked.

Hopping off the bed, Aoi tapped her bottom lip before she dashed towards the door, leaving the newspaper on the black bedspread. "Wait for me before you read that! I'm gonna go change."

When Aoi was gone, Natsume stepped quickly into the bathroom. Moments later, he reappeared, wearing a loose muscle tee, a clean towel in one hand. Glancing at the newspaper, he turned his head towards the door. Seeing that his sister was taking her sweet time in changing, he lay down on the bed and stretched on a pillow.

Closing his eyes, he felt himself suddenly jolted awake.

"Natsume, wake up lazy bum. Wake up!" Aoi was shaking his shoulder, her voice annoyed. "Five minutes and you fall asleep?"

"Yes. You're a genius for figuring that out." Natsume stretched and sat up in his sweatpants.

"Probably not," Aoi admitted, "But you might wanna take a look at this." She handed him the newspaper and crossed her arms, annoyance clearly written on her face.

"What is it?" Unfolding the newspaper, Natsume was met with a detailed image of himself, looking distant and forlorn, printed on the front page; he was leaning against the passenger door of the car, arms crossed over his plain black t-shirt; a pair of shades covered his eyes as it looked like he was arguing with his sister.

_**BREAKING NEWS**_

_**NATSUME HYUUGA FINDS A WOMAN. IS IT POSSIBLE, AFTER ALL THESE MONTHS, HE'S FOUND SOMEONE TO LOVE AGAIN? **_  
_**FLIP TO PAGE 3 TO LEARN MORE!**_

A palm made its way up to Natsume's forehead. "Seriously?" he groaned.

"Read the stupid caption, brother."

He glanced uncaringly at the open newspaper. "What about it?"

Aoi nearly slapped her thick-headed brother. "They think that you and a random girl from the mall are dating. Pretty sure you would flip, right?"

* * *

**Give it up for Chapter 2! Thank you for finishing this chapter! I know I said that I would update monthly, but… I guess the last few reviews spurred me into uploading this much earlier than planned. Arigatou!**

**Until next time,**

_**Alex**_


	3. Of Math and Mixed Emotions

**Disclaimer: I own Gakuen Al—*Sees Higuchi Tachibana with a stick*— I mean, I don't own Gakuen Alice!  
Hey, head on over to BlackMaskedBeauty's page – she's a great writer. I can't believe you deleted both of your GA stories, Vane!**

* * *

**Of Math and Mixed Emotions**

* * *

_"You're ugly when you cry, you know."_

_The girl froze on the bench. Shuffling closer to her maroon backpack, she buried her head deeper into her knees, refusing to acknowledge the unwanted guest's existence. Brown hair curtained her face as it ran past her shoulders and around her sage hoodie with the university's logo across it._

_"Oh come on, you won't even greet a fellow student?"_

_The brunette drew her legs closer to her chest, stubbornly silent. She accomplished the impressive feat of suppressing her sniffles._

_"You can cry you know," the voice continues, "All girls do it. It's not exactly a surprise." the voice remarked dryly. _

_At this, the brunette stirred slightly. Voice muffled, but level, she muttered defiantly, "I'm not crying."_

_"Then prove it."_

_Annoyed, the girl ignores the intruder's jabs. "Don't you have anyone else to bother?"_

_As silence ensues, the stranger makes no move to leave. Stepping closer to the brunette, he asked, "May I?"_

_She shrugs. "Sit here? No," she said blatantly._

_He chuckled. The unwelcome guest took a seat on the girl's right, leaving her sandwiched between him and her backpack._

_As he sat down, the girl inhaled the faint scent of vanilla and sandalwood. She reluctantly admitted to herself that the warmth emanating from him somehow managed to soothe her jumbled nerves.  
Not once thinking of taking look at him, the brunette eventually drew herself out of her shell and propped her chin on her knee, silently. She stared quietly at the other students as they socialized amicably. With the faint whisper of the autumn breeze, her face dried as she found her ears carefully observing the stranger's slow breathing._

_Sitting in silence for a while, the vanilla-scented stranger broke the silence. "So where are you from?"_

_The brunette remained silent, one hand protectively atop her pink backpack._

_"You don't have to tell me, you know."_

_The girl relaxed wordlessly as he continued, "I used to live in Washington." Seeing so little evident response from the brunette, he continued, "Besides the few weeks in summer, it was green all year. When autumn came around, all the trees turned into the most amazing of colors."_

_He turned toward the girl, "It almost never snowed in the winter, you know? Just rain… and lots of it."_

_The brunette lifted her chin and scrutinized his features. _

_Sitting beside her was a lanky, navy-haired student with silvery-blue eyes and relaxed jaw. His skin tone bordered between a pale skin tone and bronze tan. A black backpack was slung across his shoulder. His posture and casual attire suggested his familiarity and comfort with the university's surroundings._

_He nodded in approval when the brown-haired girl looked up. "Then springtime… Oh springtime! It truly is a magnificent time. My favorite season, if I may say. All types of flowers sprout up from the ground; roses, tulips, lilies, lilacs… you name it. Then there are these butterflies – large, gorgeous ivory-white winged creatures that meddled with the dragonflies."_

_During this painting of scenery, the brunette nodded to herself. As long as he continued speaking and she didn't have to utter a word, then everything would be alright. And yet somehow, out of the blue, she found herself asking quietly, "Do you miss it?"_

_The student, momentarily startled with her decision to speak, paused for several moments. Her voice was soft, and hoarse from crying. But contrasting from her body, her phrase was rather thin.  
His features broke into a grin. His steely blue eyes grinned as the crinkles above his eyes deepened. "Sometimes. What I miss most is my dog."_

_The girl merely nodded, prompting him to continue._

_He laughed. "Small thing with an attitude. Every day, during my last two years of high-school, he would greet me at our community gate and we would walk home together. If he had nothing to chew on, he would go for my shoes." He chuckled fondly, "Mouthy shepherd he was."_

_"German shepherd?"_

_The grey-eyed stranger nodded enthusiastically. His hair is dark and well groomed, yet it looked natural at the same time. "Yeah. How did you know?_

_"Lucky guess, I suppose?" the brunette shrugged bashfully. _

_"I'll say." He tapped his jaw and asked, "How about you? Any lucky dog in your life?_

_The girl shook her head. "My parents were against it for the longest while. My father dislikes them." She paused. "But I love dogs."_

_"Yeah?"_

_The brunette nodded. Moving to stand up, she glanced at him apologetically and reached for her backpack. "I gotta run."_

_"Wait. Allow me." He stood up as well, plucking the heavy backpack from the backpack. "I'll walk you back to your dorm."_

_The girl raised an eyebrow, unsure as to whether or not she should turn down the complete stranger's offer. Chewing on her lip, she said, "No, it's fine. I can walk," she joked._

_He shrugged. "Alright. Call me if you get molested," he teased._

_ The girl laughed slightly, "I won't be able to, if someone is molesting me."_

_"And why not?"_

_"First off, I haven't gotten your number. Secondly, my hands would likely be full from keeping perverts' hands away from me."_

_"Good point," he agreed. Rubbing his chin, he stared at her, "This is not a ploy to get my phone number though, right?"_

_The brunette gawked at him. Quickly wiping the surprise off her face, she frowned. "You brought up molesting in the first place. Why would I need your phone number?"_

_He shrugged smugly. "You tell me." _

_The girl shook her head. "Well, I'll be taking my leave before this conversation veers off the road." Slinging her bag across her shoulder, she called lamely behind her shoulder, "Thanks for stopping to talk to me. You're nice."_

_"Takashi."_

_The brunette paused in her steps. "Pardon?"_

_"My name is Takashi," he frowned. "Did your parents not teach you that it's rude to leave a conversation without introducing yourself?"_

_"Actually, my parents taught me to keep away from strangers and introduce ourselves at the beginning of conversations, not the end."_

_He snorted. "Everyone starts out as a stranger."_

_The girl readjusted the straps of her bag. "Exactly. The name's Mikan. Now so long, stranger. " With a little wave and an accidental stumble, she made her way across campus and disappeared among the ivy-infested buildings._

* * *

"That was beautiful."

The girl tilted her head to the side and shrugged lightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. Not quite believing her friend, she dropped her hands onto her lap and took a sudden interest in the sheet music before her.

Flicking the brunette's forehead, Takashi laughed. "Really."

Mikan hummed in response.

"Anyway, I need the computer." He reached for the silver laptop and handed her the stray green pamphlet sitting atop of it.

She turned from her spot on the bench, accepting the booklet.

"Ugh gross, what is that?"

"Hm?" With a throaty cough, Mikan waved her hand distractedly.

He picked up a white teacup, an odd, contorted expression on his face. "This."

She laughed, "My spit… Or mucus… Or—"

"—You're disgusting. Just like Hikaru."

She shrugged and flashed him a toothy grin in response before bursting into a short coughing fit. "I didn't ask you look at it."

He rolled his eyes in response and turned around before exiting the room.

"Oh, and Fishy?" he called behind his shoulder.

Mikan scowled at the given nickname, "What?"

"It's your turn to make dinner tonight."

"Wait! No, I made dinner yest—"

Before she could finish protesting, her friend's footsteps faded down the hall and into the living room.

"Idiot," she grumbled. Pushing herself away from the _Boston_ baby grand in front of her, she glanced towards the general direction in which her roommate had disappeared.

Feeling the need to annoy him, she grabbed a folder and tiptoed after him.

Entering the living room behind him, she flipped her binder open and plopped onto the couch.

"Ah, Elias. Wie geht's?" Takashi paused, smiling slightly. **_("Ah, Elias. What's up?")_**

A low, inaudible murmur comes from the phone.

Mikan glanced confusedly at her friend before shrugging. It was no longer any surprise whenever Takashi's mouth spewed nonsense everywhere.

"You're gay," Mikan half-whispered. Despite being utterly clueless, she guessed that "Elias" must have been a male name, and took no pain in annoying Takashi about it. Besides, her roommate was smiling; he was effing smiling!

He looked like an idiot.

Turning back to her plastic binder, she shifted into a comfortable position on the couch. Half-heartedly listening to her housemate's unfathomable conversation in who-knows-what language, she slowly thumbed through several pages of notes, stopping once in a while to hammer tidbits of information into her brain.

Chewing at her thumb, she coughed up a fingernail.

Takashi brought an index finger up to his lips, motioning for her to shut up, and spoke into the phone again. "Uh huh. Ja. Es geht mir gut. Es geht mir gut. Und dir?" **_("Uh huh. Yeah. I'm fine, I'm fine. And you?")_**

The brunette glared easily at the occupied college student. _Idiot_, she mouthed. Childishly scrunching her face into a look that resembled that of a dried-up sponge, she returned to her notes.

After a few minutes of listening to Takashi babbling non-stop in an unfamiliar tongue, she eventually zoned out as her mind took her to a land filled with dancing politicians and old men in powdered wigs.

"Absoluter Vorteil." Takashi paused. "Was? Oh Gott, nein... Nun, der alte Mann hat mir heute das Buch gegeben." **_("Absolute advantage... What? Oh God, no… Well, the old man gave me the book.")_**

Finally annoyed, Mikan muttered, "If you don't teach me whatever the shim-ding you're speaking, you better be wary in your sleep."

Takashi gave a distracted wave of his hand before walking towards the couch. Dropping himself besides Mikan, it seemed that he was purposefully aggravating her. Throwing the brunette a smug look, he nodded into his _annoying_ device, "Verstanden. Ja." **_("Understood. Sure.")_**

Mikan scowled and swatted the lad's arm. "Idiot."

Carrying on his conversation with "Elias," Takashi grinned widely at the exasperated girl. Nodding occasionally, he cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear. Expression malicious, he began tickling the brunette mercilessly.

Mikan vainly attempted to swat his hand away, to no avail. Unable to hold in her _unwanted _laughter, her face heated up with giggles as she snatched Takashi's phone.

Ignoring her friend's look of horror, she spoke smugly. "'Ello?"

The voice on the other side was low, pleasant, and warm. Despite the rather unfamiliar tongue, she was pleasantly surprised by the kindness present in his tone. "_Hallo. Sie sind?_" **_("Hello. You are…?")_**

Somehow forgetting that besides deciphering that _Hallo _meant 'hello,' she couldn't understand a single word. Mikan held the receiver away from her ear. Cringing, she glared at a snickering Takashi and muttered incoherently, "Language… stupid, ugh… um… uh…"

_Dammit, say something!_

A low laugh came from the other end. In a deep voice smooth as silk, he spoke again. "English, ja?" **("English, yeah?")**

_Oh Lord, his voice. _His voice… it was like that of velvet; it was raspy, calm, and displayed the slightest accent – it was altogether appealing. Sneaking yet another look at Takashi, she blinked. "Uh," she muttered into the receiver.

Mentally slapping herself, she bit her lip and stared helplessly at the phone.

She desperately handed the phone to Takashi, eyes pleading for help. He ignored her and continued clutching his stomach in silent laughter. _You look like a retarded seal_, she scowled darkly.

Mikan could have sworn that she heard Mister Raspy Voice on the phone chuckle yet again. It was one unlike any other laugh she had ever heard – it was somewhat _polite_, genuine, and forced all at once.

Jesus, how's that even _possible_?

"_Pardon?"_

Mikan blushed. Chewing on her lower lip, she realized too late that she had voiced her thoughts aloud. Scrambling for a quick reply, she lied hastily. "So you do speak English afterall," she fibbed uncertainly.

She was met by silence.

"I mean, I mean," she panicked. Clearing her throat, she quipped, "Yeah."

"_Unless I am speaking Morse."_

She furrowed her brow — that response rung with familiarity, hitting too close to home for her comfort. Mikan's eyes darted towards Takashi. He was frowning, inevitably. Her right hand went lip as she listened to the silence on the other end, hoping that he would continue speaking.

"_You like my voice, don't you?"_

Hands clammy, she swallowed a cough. Head racing, she shuddered. "Well, I had nothing on the tip of my tongue," she muttered.

He was persistent. Teasing, yes, but still persistent. _"Oh, I know that silence. A past lover, perhaps? Maybe a string of lovers? Tell me. Ah, but you're too young for love."_

At this, her face became impossibly red as she retorted, "That's stupid." But dear god, heaven praise his voice.

"_We are strangers and you speak freely already." _He clucked his tongue on the other side of the line.

Mikan growled hotly, "You spoke freely. In that case, it gives you even less of a reason to be such a moron, stalker!" White knuckles gripping the phone, she threw it across the room and grabbed her binder. With a huff, she refused to meet her gawking silver-haired friend's gaze.

Takashi whistled slowly. "Well, that escalated quickly."

Mikan ignored him. Her blood was boiling; she was fuming. Never had she been more annoyed. She couldn't believe that she had thought the "stranger" was attractive. Wait no, screw that. He had a nice voice – nothing more, nothing less. But hell, everyone had a nice voice nowadays.

It seemed that she never learned.  
Every guy she had the ill fortune to meet, even _talk _to, turned out to be some stupid jerk.

Shrugging, Takashi bent and picked up his beseeching cellphone. Turning it over in his hands, he inspected it carefully. Finding only a scratch, he shrugged yet again; the call had been disconnected.

Mikan sunk lower into the plush couch. Curling her legs under her, she remained silent as she drowned her nerves with the flurry of text displayed before her.

"Hey."

Mikan started at the voice, jumping slightly. Not in the mood for her housemate's recurring teasing, she groaned, "Oh shut up. I'm thinking."

"Oh-hoo-hoo, you're thinking too much – it can't be healthy, I tell you."

Mikan shot Takashi a glare. "And _someone_ is insulting my favorite character from Winnie the Pooh."

"You mean Tigger? Hey, calm down." Takashi held his arms up defensively. "Jeez," he muttered under his breath.

"I'll calm down when you're dead," the brunette snapped.

"So that means you'll stop being so red in fifty years?"

"Hopefully you won't even live that long."

Takashi tapped his finger against his phone case. "In that case, I will kindly escape your overbearing presence, milady."

Not without sending Mikan a smirk, he waltzed out of the room, chuckling.

Glaring at his back, the brunette stepped several paces out of the room and stalked towards her wooden desk.

Dropping herself in front of her desk, she tapped her desktop keyboard awake and opened a Google Chrome tab. Blinking stupidly for a few moments, she finally began typing.

Pushing unwelcome thoughts of Takashi and Elias out of her mind, she stabbed the Enter key harder than necessary.

As the it loaded, she gawked at the page, mouth gasping for air like a goldfish. As her eyes bulged out of their sockets, she _harrumped_ at what her searches came up with.

Tying her hair into a messy lump at the nape of her neck, she licked her lips and tilted her head.

It was annoying.

It was discouraging.

It was absolutely crazy!

Why in the name of _anything_ would a first-edition book cost several thousands? Thousands! It was completely unheard of. _I swear, if I get my hands on any of those filthy—_

"You look like a goldfish."

"—_book humans. They'll meet with my fist. _Still in a daze, Mikan muttered distractedly, "I like to eat fish though."

"You must be less intelligent than I took you for. It's not a bright idea, eating yourself."

This snapped Mikan from her trance. Staring incredulously at her friend, she puckered her lips. "Vaht?"

"You won't succeed in pulling a German accent."

Mikan scowled. "I'm not."

"You are."

"Gah, it's no use arguing with you." Mikan stuck out her tongue and pounded her fists against her legs.

"Of course not, goldfish."

"I thought Takashi was the only one who called me goldfish." Mikan bristled at the thought of their housemate. "I hate Takashi."

"You're an idiot. He calls you Fishy. I call you a goldfish. It's stupid, either way."

Mikan looked up from her computer, unable to read her friend's lavender eyes. The brunette honestly did not understand just how all her friends had _eyes_ – eyes that looked absolutely drop-dead stunning.

"Yeah well…" The brunette trailed off, mentally retarded. Unable to come up with a suitable retort, she just shrugged.

The ebony-haired incomer gave a wave of her hand. Nodding passively towards the screen, she said, "What are you doing?"

Mikan moaned in response. Not at all fazed by Hotaru's apathy, she was content that at least one of her friends cared for her. "Everything is so expensive!"

Hotaru watched in thinly-veiled amusement as the brunette flailed her arms.

Mikan continued complaining, "It's just a book! A stupid book! Even the most expensive one is thirty-eight _thousand_ dollars!"

"So that's what the fuss was about. It's just a book."

"Don't just stand there and shrug, you meanie! You, as my best friend, have the duty of soothing me! And it's not _'just a book!'_"

Hotaru glanced at her friend impassively. "That's stupid. You said it was just a book. Who said you're my best friend?"

Mikan flicked her friend's elbow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Me, duh."

"Work for it," the purple-eyed girl said simply.

"Work for friendship or for the _damned_ book?"

Hotaru sighed. "Idiot, you will never win my friendship. It's obvious that I'm talking about the book."

A small _ping_ went off in Mikan's head. Rising heatedly from her seat, she shook her index finger at the nonchalant figure in front of her. In all honesty, she didn't care if she looked like a haggard maniac.

Hotaru stepped towards the kitchen. "I'm going back to Japan in three days. Looks like you won't be missing me."

Mikan stopped abruptly in her advance. One leg hanging in the air, she gaped wide-eyed at her friend. Rubbing her ears, she must have heard wrong. The brunette laughed, half-speaking to herself, "Whaa? You? Nah. I must be hearing things."

"I'm going back to Japan."

Mikan felt her heart drop. Bursting with dozens of emotions, she cried, "What? Why?"

"Because I am not stupid like you."

Mikan tripped over her feet and encircled Hotaru in a hug. "You can't leaveeeee!"

Guarded, Hotaru replied simply, "What makes you think you can decide for me?"

"Well, because you are my friend! And friends don't leave each other!"

"They would if they weren't friends in the first place."

At this, Mikan grip on the amethyst-eyed girl tightened. "We're friends! I know you are!" Spewing like a water fountain, she barged on, "I know we are. I know it, I just know it!"

"Stop acting like a three-year-old. You're getting your snot all over me. It's disgusting." Despite her words, Hotaru made no move to pry away from Mikan's grasp.

"No!" A strangled cry made its way up the brunette's throat. "Why would you leave?"

Hotaru shrugged, her eyes clouding over. "Business."

"You can do your business here!"

"I'm not a dog."

Mikan flushed. "But why!"

"Business," she repeated.

Giving up, Mikan let go of Hotaru and turned back to her computer. Betrayed, she muttered, "Fine, do whatever you want."

Hotaru turned away from the door. "And you're cooking dinner today."

"Wait!"

"What?"

"Is there anything else that you'll say?"

"No." Hotaru removed a slip of paper from her jean pocket. "Just solve this and I might rethink it."

As the paper flitted to the floor, Hotaru closed the door to her basement and was gone for the rest of the early afternoon.

Mikan blinked. Belatedly registering the fact that her friend's departure wasn't inevitable, she grinned. "Well, this'll be easy!"

Mikan hummed to herself as she bent to pick up the thin slip of paper.

It seemed that the day had dozens of surprises in store for her. Hand steady, she read to herself. Towards the end, shaking took its place.

**_There are many unsolved problems in mathematics. Try proving the Goldbach conjecture, or find the six billionth digit of pi in the base of 23. Good luck._**

"FORGET ABOUT THE SIX BILLIONTH DIGIT OF PI OR SOME GOLDBACH GUY!" Mikan tore at her hair heatedly, "SOMEONE JUST _PLEASE _TELL ME HOW THE HELL DO I FIGURE OUT SOME BASE?"

* * *

Honestly, her friend was murdering her.

That was the only valid explanation for the bags under Mikan's sleep-deprived eyes.

Three consequent days, Mikan willed her body to get off on little to no sleep. When lectures at the University were finished in the afternoon, she would quickly find a bench and gnaw on pencils until they reduced to ashy dust; she would steal Takashi's laptop and indulge herself with mathematic videos that hurled themselves at her in a foreign tongue. University papers could wait; the knowledge of Hotaru's departure, no matter how long, rocked her being to the very pit of her soul.

On the third day after she had received her little "challenge," Mikan swore that she would collapse at any given moment. The past day was filled with head-nodding and slightly-more-peeved-than-usual professors. But given that she usually wasn't too troublesome as a student, they had let her off the hook; after all, she had stressed, albeit with a sleepy slur or two, that she had morning jitters which she implied meant "the-morning-after."

It was the only idea that suddenly leapt into her mind on that particular sun-filled morning.

Now here she was, on the couch, with only two hours left until her best friend's departure.

Her exhaustion was no help.

Groaning to herself, Mikan tucked the slip of paper into her sweatshirt pocket and hugged a pillow close to her chest. Curling up in a patch of sunlight, she gave up. Within minutes, she had drifted on into a much-need slumber.

One hundred and nine minutes later, she was hit by two things.

The first was rather expected.

"Have you solved it?"

Mikan's eyes peeled open painfully. Squinting, she looked up. The late-afternoon sun had moved, leaving her half-shivering. She mumbled a few incoherent phrases under her breath as she wiped at her saliva-covered mouth.

That was when she noticed the blue blanket around her. Tugging it closer, she tilted her head upwards, eyes drooping tiredly. "Wuh doo you wahn?"

"Get up. You sound drunk."

Mikan clutched the blanket around her. Sniffing, she caught a whiff of a familiar scent: sandalwood. Her groggy mind briefly wandered, currently incapable of piecing her thoughts together. Unable to put one and one together, her head bobbed slowly.

The figure standing above her sighed. "Dummy."

Mikan's head jerked. "Huh?"

"I'm leaving."

"What? No!" Mikan leapt from her space on the couch. The blue blanket wriggled off her body and landed softly on the floor. All signs of fatigue were temporarily erased from her mind as she frantically pleaded for her friend to stay.

"The problem."

Mikan blinked in confusion as she let go of her friend's shoulders. The scent of sandalwood crept up her nostrils again. "What problem?"

"The Goldbach conjecture."

Mikan instantly froze. "I-I, I got confused!"

Hotaru raised an eyebrow.

The brunette continued spluttering. "I'm not sure if I even did it correctly… it was so hard, and then it was hell trying to find—"

"—Did you do it?"

Mikan fumbled with her fingers. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she mumbled, "Um, maybe?"

"I have fifteen minutes."

With a small yelp, Mikan pulled the crumpled sheet of paper from her sweatshirt.

**_There are many unsolved problems in mathematics. Try proving the Goldbach conjecture, or find the six billionth digit of pi in base 23._**

_log_2n 1944 = log_n (486 √2)  
= log_2 1944 / log_2 (2n) = log_2 (486 √2) / log_2 n  
= log_2 1944 / (1 + log_2 n) = (log_2 486 + 1/2) / log_2 n  
= log_2 1944 log_2 n = (log_2 486 + 1/2) (log_2 n + 1)  
= (log_2 1944 - log_2 486 - 1/2) log_2 n = log_2 486 + 1/2  
= (log_2 4 - 1/2) log_2 n = log_2 486 + 1/2  
= log_2 n = 2/3 log_2 486 + 1/3  
= log_2 n^6 = 6 log_2 n = 4 log_2 486 + 2  
= n^6 = 486^4 . 2^2  
= 2^6 . 3^20  
= 223154201664._

As Mikan watched dejectedly, Hotaru scanned the sheet of paper. Nodding slowly every few seconds, she said, "Not bad. Not the best, but not bad."

The brunette's entire demeanor suddenly changed; it seemed that she had received a short bout of energy. Clasping her hands together, she cried, "So you can stay!"

"Nah," Hotaru responded. "This has never been completely solved before." She lowered the math equation and gazed at Mikan steadily.

"Wh-What do you m-mean?"

Slightly impatient, the dark-haired girl said, "There has never been a proved answer of this before."

Once again, Mikan felt her heart sink. "So…"

"I'm still going back to Japan," Hotaru replied simply.

Strained, Mikan sunk back into the couch. Pulling the blue blanket up to her chin, she heaved a sigh and gave up. "How long will you be gone?"

"A few weeks."

"Define 'a few,'" Mikan mumbled as her eyelids once again grew heavy. She breathed in the warm soothing scent of the blanket, feeling slightly comforted.

"A few," was all Hotaru said.

Mikan only nodded before involuntarily before drifting back to sleep. As her head slowly hit the arm rest, she murmured, "Love yah, Hotaru. _Text me, 'kay?_"

As the brunette fell into a peaceful slumber, Hotaru could only shake her head run a pale hand through her cropped black hair. Hauling her luggage towards the door, she paused and looked back.

A small, rare smile gracing her lips, the Ice Queen of the East Coast did something that only seemed to happen in movies.

Stepping swiftly towards the brunette, she patted her friend's head softly and readjusted her friend's sleeping position swiftly. "Relax.

"You're an idiot for thinking that you're not my friend."

* * *

"Mikan."

The brunette stood frozen in time; a thousand memories flooded her mind, attempting to drown her.  
She remained stone-still as her eyes trained themselves on her ex-lover.

"_Hn. Whatever. Let's go.  
"You're an idiot.  
"It's lachrymose, stupid. Not a mouse."  
"I love you, Natsume!"  
"Stupid woman."  
"Say it!"  
"Jeez. I love you too, Mikan. Happy?"_

Mikan gasped. Stumbling from her spot atop the stairs, her grasp on the wooden railing tightened. She desperately pushed her memories of him into a dark cranny of her heart.

"Mikan."

Her name… that was her name. She couldn't deny that the pull of the veiled, pleading voice deeply ignited her feelings. Her mouth worked but no voice came out. _God dammit._

Soft fluffy howalons, soft warm kisses, and sun-filled afternoons flooded the dam of her memory. In a whirlwind of goose-bumped skin and a hollow heart, she clutched her head and continued stumbling forward.

"Na-Natsume?" she asked tentatively as her shivers refused to cease.

The raven-haired male continued standing there, his scarlet eyes displaying a combination of longing and hope. "Mikan."

A wrangled cry escaped the brunette's throat. She lunged for him and clung to his neck tightly. "Natsume," she sobbed, "Natsume!"

A warm hand patted her back. "If you keep crying like that, people will think that you're having an orgasm."

And just like that, the brunette was sobbing full-force into her ex-boyfriend's arms.

.

Mikan jerked awake.

The living room was dark… she could definitely say that it was dark. The only source of light was the pale moon as it shined feebly through the window.

A full orchestra of crickets and other nocturnal insects kept the young moon company.

She blinked. The sound of crashing waves echoed nonstop in her ears.

Mikan hugged the blanket closer. "It was just a dream, just a dream, just a dream," she muttered, rocking herself to and fro against the couch.

"_I love you too."_

Something wet plummeted onto her fingers.

Mikan stared vaguely at the place where he fingers supposedly lay entangled against one another atop the blanket. Belatedly touching her cheek, she realized that it was the source of her wet finger.

"_I love you too."_

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up." Mikan cradled her legs to her chest and chanted to herself in vain.

Wiping desperately at her cheeks, the brunette slipped her hands underneath the warm blanket and was instantly hit with a warm fragrance of sandalwood.

_Sandalwood?_

"_I love you too."_

"Shut up!" Mikan cried out loud confusion convulsing her body. Burrowing her head into the sofa, she wrapped the blanket closer around her still-shivering body.

A door squeaked. Moments later, the living room light flickered on.

Her housemate made his presence known. Grunting, he plopped beside Mikan and poked inquiringly at her shoulder. "So you're up."

Sour, Mikan remarked, "Mikan is out of service. I'm afraid that your friend is underground, dead." Her voice was muffled under the covers.

Takashi chuckled, "You were muttering, rather loudly. You alright?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled, head still under the blanket. Her heart raced, desperate to escape the clutches of her dream.

"You sure, Fishy?"

Mikan didn't feel the need to scowl at the nickname any longer. Shoulders shaking silently, she just nodded feebly and kept her face hidden.

Takashi placed an empathetic hand on the brunette's shoulder. Completely unlike him, he squeezed it. Shaking her a bit, he remained silent.

"Chocolate?"

Mikan's head poked up from the covers. "White?"

Takashi's eyes gleamed in the warm light of the room. "Right up your alley."

Mikan's lips pulled themselves into a small smile as Takashi left, returning with an armload of sweets.

The twosome sat together quietly, staring into space, littering the carpet with chocolate wrappers and chocolate crumbs.

Mikan hiccupped softly as she slowly consumed her sweet treat. "Why?"

Takashi looked up from his wrapper. "Why what?"

Mikan swallowed, wetting her lips in the process. She gestured towards the chocolates. "You don't usually share your chocolates, you know?" she amended dryly.

Takashi shrugged and looked away, glancing out the window.

Mikan hugged herself tighter. "Thanks for the blanket, by the way."

The silver-and-blue-eyed lad nodded and smiled. "Sure thing, kiddo."

"_I love you too."_

Mikan stiffened besides Takashi. _No, it wasn't Takashi._

He stopped, pausing himself from swallowing more chocolate in midair. One eyebrow quirked, he said lightly, "So you prefer Fishy, am I right?"

Mikan huffed and shot him a glare. "You wish."

It was no help that the thudding in Mikan's chest was anticipating something – something that she could not yet decipher; she was willing to bet that it was Natsume.

_Natsume._

It had been months since she had last seen him, spoke to him, or even spoke of him. For months, she had disregarded the beseeching voices in her head that begged her to forget about the past and their mistakes.

But Mikan had pride. It was pride that would not, and could not, be shattered easily.

She left him; it was her choice, and hers alone.

What she never understood, however, was why he did what he did. He said that he had loved her thrice, at least most four times; each time, he seemed to have meant it—each time, his eyes would darken and his voice would lower an octave, and she, in turn treasured every time he would soften at the sight of her.

But why… Why did he _go_ through the trouble of lying if he obviously loved someone else? At first, Mikan thought that if she appeased Natsume's mother, the older woman would eventually leave them be; she thought that if she pushed her stubborn boyfriend, _ex_-boyfriend, to, albeit reluctantly, attend a date or two with the famed Luna Koizumi, Kaoru would eventually see that what she was doing was… uncivil.

But Mikan, she never saw this coming; she wasn't expecting him to fall for the strawberry-blonde's appealing charms; she wasn't expecting him to slowly leave her and dote upon another girl; she wasn't expecting him to _betray_ her.

Mikan snorted to herself. _He didn't betray you. You don't use the word "betrayal" in the same sentence as love._

She half-thought otherwise.

_Sandalwood._

Mikan blinked. Natsume had nothing to do with sandalwood, but to her, it wasn't impossible for him to smell that way.  
_Betrayal… _It was when she saw him with the beautiful model… It was then that she realized that the two of them were incompatible for one another.

But why…! Why did he have to lie? Why did he not just _break up with me?_ Mikan's stomach churned at the thought. She couldn't—

"Mikan? Mikan. Earth to Mikan."

Something, or rather _someone_ was leaning against her shoulder.

"Huh?" The brunette blinked. She was still sitting on the same plush couch; the tall lamp at the end of the room was still lit; Takashi was still beside her, half asleep and slumped against her.

Her roommate shifted in his position.

"Did you say something?"

It was Takashi's turn to blink. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he glanced at her, "No, why?"

She must have gone crazy. The brunette shrugged, "I thought… I thought someone was talking to me."

Takashi grinned like the Cheshire cat and popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth, saying nothing.

Mikan shivered under her blanket. "What time is it?"

The grey-eyed male shrugged. "Probably past midnight."

"Oh."

"Mmmhmm." He played with the sleeve of his black sweatshirt, staring blankly ahead.

Getting used to the silence, Mikan spoke up, "Cold?"

Takashi shook his head. "Not by much."

"Something bothering you?"

"I'm fine," Takashi looked her over and grinned.

Skeptical, Mikan crossed her arms over her chest under the blanket. "You sure?"

Takashi nodded and tossed a pillow to and from each arm.

Mikan frowned. "You're copying me," she said pointedly.

Takashi hummed in response but didn't disagree.

"Three questions."

"Hm?"

Mikan threw the half the blanket atop Takashi as she snuggled deeper into the cushioned sofa. "Three questions. Just a little game."

"Suddenly interested in my personal life, Fishy?" Takashi smirked as he made no comment about the blanket.

Mikan nodded. "Because I'm a nosy little brat." _That and I need to get my mind off of Natsume._

Takashi shrugged. "Go for it."

"Who first?"

"You, because you're younger, Fishy."

"First of all, I am _not_ Fishy. It's Mikan, you moron."

"I know that, just get on asking already, Fish."

Mikan suddenly asked, "Where's Hikaru?"

"At her dorm. She said something about an overdue project."

Mikan sighed in relief. "I thought you molested her."

Takashi laughed drily. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny. Since you've already used up one of your questions, I'm going next." Ignoring Mikan's protesting mutters, he asked, "Ever been in love before?"

Mikan started at the sudden, unexpected question. "What?"

"In love," Takashi repeated. "Have you ever been in love before?"

The brunette shrugged, wriggling her eyebrows. "Maybe."

"I'm sorry, _Miss_," Takashi said humorously, "But I will need more information than that."

"But—"

"—You came up with this game."

Sighing in defeat, Mikan began, "Perhaps. Maybe… Okay fine, yes."

Takashi nodded slowly, "Hm, okay. That explains it." He muttered the last part under his breath, but Mikan caught it nonetheless.

Ignoring his self-musings, she took her turn. "Have you ever been in love before?"

Takashi shrugged. "If you mean a string of silly crushes, then yes."

"How silly?"

"It was with my teacher." He inspected the blanket. "And the teacher was a guy," he added.

Mikan laughed, "A guy?"

"Yeah."

"So you _are_ gay! I knew it."

"I knew you would say that. Nope, I'm not."

"Then how—"

"Long story short, the teacher was very feminine." Takashi chuckled, "He wore earrings, rings, and even his blonde hair was shoulder length."

Mikan chuckled. "Sounds a lot like a teacher I had a while back."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"My turn," Takashi said. "What was the person like, the one you were in love with?"

"Why did you have to ask that?"

"Because I am amazing."

Mikan groaned. "Oh, well, trust me when I speak. He had two eyes. On his face was one nose with two nostrils; he had a mouth too. He had hair and intact limbs, and he knew how to talk."

Takashi pretended to stroke his imaginary beard in deep thought. "Interesting, interesting. He sounds amazing. Was he sexy?"

"That's question four, you dolt."

"Dammit, I thought you would lose count for a moment there." Takashi's eyes twinkled, "You can ask me another one later. Was he sexy?"

"Why?"

Takashi shrugged. "Oh you know, I just wanted to know whether I am hotter than your lover. You know, just to get a feel for the ugliness of the world."

Mikan glared at the winking Takashi. "Yes," she snapped, "He _was_ sexy. Way better looking than you," she muttered.

Takashi clutched his chest with mock pain before reducing to tickling the brunette beside him.

After a few minutes, Mikan asked her questions. "Were you really in love with that teacher?"

Takashi tilted his head. "Yup. That part was kinda true."

"Kinda?" Mikan was once again hit by the appealing scent of sandalwood.

"I had a girlfriend once."

"Was she sexy?"

"Very. She was a sexy nerd back in Washington."

Mikan laughed, "Really?"

"Nah, I made that one up. Wanted to see your reaction."

Mikan rolled her eyes, "Meanie."

"Mean I am."

The brunette agreed wholeheartedly.

"I think it's almost two now."

"Why am I not feeling tired," Mikan muttered, "At all?"

"Because you had my company duh," said her friend in a superior voice.

Mikan snorted and quickly looked away. She did not understand the small blush heating up her cheeks.

"That reminds me," Takashi interrupted her, "What happened the past days?"

_Hotaru_. "Hotaru."

"Betting with her again?"

Mikan nodded glumly. "Not only did I lose, but she left me too."

Takashi nodded understandably and leaned back into the couch.

Turning towards the brunette, he gazed at her levelly. "Do you still love him?"

"Hm? Who?"

"Your boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend," she corrected forcefully; she disliked the sore spot that always seemed to emerge at the mere thought of Natsume.

Takashi nodded. "Okay."

"No, I don't," she lied.

"Oh really?"

"Really." Mikan involuntarily hitched a breath when a pair of dark red eyes swam in her vision. Shaking them away, she repeated, "Really."

Takashi nodded slowly. A slow grin began forming on his face as he played with the earring against his right ear. "Have you kissed anyone after breaking up?"

That was the last straw. Rising forcefully from the couch, Mikan glowered at him. Spewing colorful contents, her mouth had a mind of its own. "Why the hell should I tell you? Why do you even care?"

Takashi shrugged as he remained seated. "So you don't love him anymore?"

Mikan threw her hands up into the air. "Shut up, shut up, just _shut up_! Of course I no longer love him! He's good-for-nothing, downright rude, and a complete asshole. Happy?" she spat.

Silent tears of frustration welled up beneath her eyes as she exhaled painfully. Turning her back on her roommate, she said nothing.

He stood up behind her and placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Sorry. Calm down, calm down."

Mikan nodded in acknowledgement and turned to leave. "I'm going to bed. There are still classes tomorrow."

"Wait."

"What?" she muttered, annoyed.

"Prove it."

"Prove what?"

"Prove that you no longer love him."

"And why should I do that?" Mikan snapped tiredly. _You're insane. Just let me go to bed. _

"Because you no longer love him."

Mikan frowned in frustration. "Ugh fine. The guy's a lying, two-timing bastard." _No that's not it… _One hand on her mouth, she muttered, "If I comply, will you leave me alone?"

"Yeah."

"Fine. So teach me, O-holy-one," she growled.

"It's simple."

Mikan crossed her arms over her body, "What?"

"Close your eyes."

Doing as he said, the brunette's eyes shut her eyes obediently.

She was about to ask the damned Takashi again when she suddenly felt a warm pair of _something_ upon hers. Startled, she blinked. She was met by a long pair of lashes and overwhelmed by the strong, lingering scent of sandalwood and faint vanilla. Bolts of electricity shot up her spine as she parted her lips halfway.

_You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't be fucking doing this._

But her body disagreed. As Takashi's lips worked slowly against her, her eyes fluttered open again.

Gasping, she pulled away. Grasping at the place where her heart supposedly was, she felt it thumping painfully against her ribcage, frantic on escape. Eyes widening at what she had just done, Mikan took an uneasy step back.

Takashi met her gaze and nodded, smiling softly. "It's alright, I understand."

Mikan continued panting. Staring wide-eyed at the silver-haired lad, she closed her mouth, clamming them shut. _What have I done?_

She wanted to apologize. She wanted to say sorry. But she didn't do anything! _Yes you did_, her mind contradicted challengingly.

She didn't know what she was thinking. Her mind raced and she breathed raggedly.

_You're overreacting – it was just a kiss. Just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It meant nothing. He's gay._

"It-It's alright," she said shakily. Hazel eyes darting back and forth, she glanced at him imploringly.

Takashi reached forward and rested a hand on her shoulder.

The action sent her arms tingling.

_He was just testing you. Takashi's gay! You aren't supposed to be feeling this way, dammit. Stop it!_

"Whelp, so much for the kiss. Thanks, I guess?" He brushed his hair over his eyes and pat her shoulder.

The brunette nodded slowly, not quite registering what he had just said.

Behind a pair of hidden eyes, Takashi flashed a lopsided grin. "Goodnight."

Mikan nodded weakly as a dozen colors flooded her senses, "Goodnight, Takashi."

He retreated upstairs and into his room, closing the door softly behind him.

After several moments of calming her heart to no avail, she stumbled up the stairs and silently entered her room.

Shutting the door behind her, she slid against the wooden frame. Sitting in the cool darkness of her room, she shivered, and replayed the earlier scene in her head.

Little voices ran wild in the brunette's head.

_He enjoyed it. Me too…_

_But…_

_But Natsume…_

_Natsume... _She dropped her aching head into her palms. _You still love him._

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! HAPPY THANKSGIVING! I decided to update because… why not, right?  
P.S. Please let me know if you would want chapters from Mikan's or Natsume's perspective (or both, for that matter). I'm juggling both right now, but I'm also wondering if both lives are interesting enough to follow! (Mwahaha) Are there other original GA characters you would like to see?**

**Gah, this must be one of the longest A/Ns I have written in a while.  
Thank you for bearing with me!**

_HE - _November 26th, 2015


	4. Of iMessages and Turmoil

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed. I do not own Gakuen Alice.  
Special thanks to Anilissa for pointing out the difference between "one-chan" and "onii-chan"!**

* * *

**Of iMessages and Conflict**

* * *

No one likes change.

A brand new group of people dropping brusquely into, or falling away from, one's life is the definition of such a thing; it's sudden; it comes without warning, and it takes time to get used to.

But sometimes, change… change was just inevitable.

…Perhaps.

Nearly a week had rolled by since the siblings' newspaper incident.

Even so, here he was, practically _trudging_ down the bustling streets of Tokyo City. Busy city-goers brushed passed him in his black baseball cap, paying the young heartthrob no heed – perhaps they were too occupied to notice that Natsume Hyuuga was right in front of their noses; or maybe his looks had degraded overnight.

Natsume doubted the latter. It was either his ego or confidence talking — perhaps it was both.

Nearly all his life, the raven-haired male had kept most of his personal affairs separate from the prying public eye. After all, he had a social butterfly as a mother, his _oh-so-charming_ younger sister, and a once-beautiful father. Ioran Hyuuga _was_ beautiful.

Natsume and Aoi Hyuuga struck a deal: If Natsume cooperated with her for one week, she would share with him whereabouts of anyone he wished. He doubted she had such power – after all, only Hotaru Imai could even _dream_ of such a thing. Not knowing what had come over himself on that particular evening, Natsume had decided to humor his younger sister.

So here he was, scowling as he made his way through the throng.

His hands were pocketed in his leather jacket. His well-sculpted torso was accentuated by a dark, clingy Rolling Stones t-shirt and uncomfortable leather skinny jeans clung to his lower region. A French-script _Aoi_ hung from a thin gold chain around his neck – it was evident just who had dressed him that particular morning.

Natsume rolled his eyes and studied a green insect that had landed on his sleeve.

_It's only one week_, he managed to convince him.

Watching as the bug crawled slowly around his index finger, he stood vacantly in front of his intended destination. The avocado-colored bug had stopped romping; it rubbed its tiny wings together and wriggled a single antennae.

_Aoi is dead after this._

Natsume flicked the bug into the air and shook his head slowly at his own empty threat. Both he and his sister knew the soft spot he had for her— and Aoi being Aoi, she took advantage of that.

The raven-head ran a hand through his entangled hair.

Standing grounded in front of large, revolving glass doors, he glanced at the large clock that glinted within the building. Seeing that he was eight minutes over the scheduled time, he shrugged and strode in.

A blast a stifling warm air met him.

As his scowl augmented, his eyes swept across the surroundings.

It was a rather spacious ground floor. Marble tiles and dozens of potted plants made the heat seem even more unbearable. Several elevators sat in the center of the hall; every ascending floor was visible from the lobby with ramps leading in different directions as if they were lengthy spider legs.

Stretching silently, the raven headed nonconformist was greeted by a chirpy voice.

"Ah, Natsume Hyuuga?"

He turned around.

Standing behind him was a young woman, perhaps just a year or two older than him, in a black pencil skirt and ruffled pink blouse. Her large green eyes were framed with oversized glasses that threatened to slide off her nose.

Natsume nodded dully, briefly acknowledging her presence.

"Wonderful!" She smiled at him genuinely and stuck out her right hand. "You're here for your appointed interview, right?"

Natsume took her hand reluctantly and noted the softness of her skin. Letting go, he nodded again, remaining mute.

_Forced _seemed more appropriate, but he made no move to correct the woman.

"Perfect! I'm Akiko and I'll show you to your room! " The girl beamed. _Again_. She turned around and beckoned with her hand, black hair swishing behind her. "Follow me!"

Natsume spoke for the first time. Clearing his throat, he took his time in speaking. "And how do I know that you won't attempt anything dirty?"

Akiko turned around, an unexpected expression on her face. Cheerfully tapping at her clipboard with a yellow pencil, she indicated with a mild look of surprise, "Well, you'll just have to trust me, don't you, Mr. Hyuuga?" She winked casually and continued leading him down a narrow hall.

Boredom lifting slightly, Natsume shook his head at the girl's flirtatious actions.

_Or maybe they're genuine._

He shrugged.

They had arrived at a small space decorated modestly two white sofas, a large Toshiba flat screen, and a stout-legged coffee table.

Akiko turned and bowed before entering the room with Natsume closely behind.

He raised his eyebrows silently and took a seat on the couch as prompted.

Akiko excused herself and exited the room with a small blush on her face, claiming she had "business matters" to attend to.

Natsume stretched into a lazy position, folding his hands laxly over his stomach. Staring at the glass table in front of him, he briefly wondered if the bottle of water was free for him to wake.

Probably not.

He shook his head and glanced at the wall clock.

_11:14_

So he wasn't the only one late after all.

As several idle moments passed, Natsume felt his boredom return. Seeing as no one bothered to enter the well-lit room, he disregarded the many cameras and stood up. As he turned to leave, a woman in her mid-twenties waltzed in.

The first thing the raven head noticed about her was her hair. It was a simple haircut that reached her shoulders, but the familiarly pink shade instantly caught his attention.

_Pink._

He folded his arms over his chest, tapping his foot impatiently.

The woman who entered shot him a glare. "I don't have to explain myself to a spoiled teenager," she snapped.

Slightly surprised, but more so amused, Natsume's mouth twitched upwards. "Ah, I didn't say you had to.  
Who said anything about me being a teenager?" he added dubiously.

She waved her hand dismissively. Whispering furiously, she stalked up to him. "Look here, Hyuuga, it's not like I _wanted_ to come here. If you'll shut the fuck up, I'm the one who has to interview you. The stupid woman who was _supposed_ to come," she glared at him menacingly, "called in sick. The wimp chickened out."

_Nutmeg._

Natsume grunted. "At least we agree on something. Let's get this over with."

"I'm pissed too – Don't act as if you own this place."

"Sure, Harada." he replied simply.

As if on cue, a stream of cameramen entered the room. Delivering due pleasantries to the bickering duo, they set to work. If possible the crew delivered scattered stronger beams of light across the window-less room.

"Yoo-hoo, Natsume, Misaki, try not to look like you two are about to murder one another, o-kay?"

Natsume turned. Masking his surprise, he frowned at the vivacious newcomer. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

The blonde man feigned hurt, sweeping an elegant deftly across his forehead. Blinking his large violet-green eyes, he pulled a pout. "My loves, am I not allowed entrance to this lovely get-together?"

Misaki Harada and Natsume Hyuuga seemed to be spitting images of one another – and complete opposites – as they mirrored one another's irate glares. "No," they spit simultaneously, venom coating their contrasting voices.

"But you were my amazing students!"

"And you're gay, Anju," Natsume retorted. "Two and one does not necessarily get you to four."

"Nonsense! Your logic is twisted." Narumi waved a pale, slender hand. "Shall we get on with your sex appeal?"

It took all of Natsume's willpower to not strangle the blonde man at the very moment. _I'll show you sex appeal._

Narumi paid the raven-haired individual no heed. "Remember, smiles!" He clapped his hands brilliantly. "Just smile and act as if nothing was wrong!" he chirped cheerfully. "Because nothing _is_ wrong, right? You may murder one another after this interview."

The twosome on the couch glared at each other before Misaki stiffly brought her microphone to her mouth and bit out sarcastically. Facing the camera, she said, "I am Misaki Harada, and I am here with Natsume Hyuuga. Now Natsume," she emphasized his first name tartly, "Is there anything you would like to say to our viewers?"

Natsume shook his head. He glanced the blonde man who was standing behind a camera, hands clasped above (what Natsume assumed was) his nonexistent heart. "No."

Misaki's grip tightened, her whitened knuckles standing out clearly against the microphone's dark handle. Forcing a miniscule smile, she smoothed her voice superbly. "Perfect. We will now ask you a few questions, alright?"

"Yes of course. That is what an interview is for." Natsume once again crossed his legs atop one another and gestured for her to continue.

"Ha. Ha. Of course."

Inclining his head mockingly, he said, "Do continue."

Narumi jumped in front of them. Flitting in front of a camera, he waved his arms comically. "And we'll be back in sixty seconds, viewers!"

He turned back to the couple on the couch. "Smile!" Disappearing again, he motioned for the two to continue.

_I'll murder you, Anju._

Narumi only waved an adorned hand, an innocent smile gracing his face. He beckoned for the two to speak.

Misaki took the lead. "You have never agreed to an interview before. We are curious — What changed your mind, Natsume?"

Thumb playing with his lower lip, his brow crinkled. He did not expect this question. Cursing silently, he frowned upon realizing that Narumi had failed to go over the interview questions. "Reasons."

"And may I ask what reasons?"

"Yes you may."

Misaki nodded. "And…?"

"I struck a deal with my younger sister," he smiled minutely. "If I complied with her wishes for one week, and if I back out, she's the winner."

Misaki nodded again and quickly forced a strained smile. "Alright then… You never specified what the winner – you – receives."

Natsume shrugged. "Aoi claimed that she was working it out." He silently congratulated himself for disobeying sister's silent request to keep their deal obscured from the public eye.

Misaki nodded, mouthing _idiot_. "Well, we wish you the best of luck, Natsume. How is your romantic life fairing?"

Natsume had expected this question to a part of this questionnaire. Scrambling quickly for a response, he said, "Getting nosy, are we?"

"Yes we are. To be expected from an interview, no?"

Natsume shrugged. Facing the camera, he winked. With a teasing smile, he leaned forward, hands folded over one another. Staring into the lenses, he whispered chillingly, "It's top secret."

Misaki spoke for the nonexistent audience. "Oh come on, we would like to know more."

"It'll remain confidential for now, Harada."

Giving up, Misaki smiled tightly. "And how are your parents doing?"

"They are doing well, thank you for asking."

"This question was submitted by one of your young admirers, Ava Tomoe. She asks," Misaki glanced down at a notecard, "Do you prefer cats or dogs?"

Natsume shrugged. "Both seem just fine. Dogs are loud and energetic," _like her_, "and cats typically keep more to themselves."

Misaki tilted her head. "It seems to me that a cat suits you better."

The interviewee nodded. "Maybe," he agreed half-heartedly.

"Well, we heard that you recently started up your own brand name. Hyuuga, are we correct? How is everything running so far?"

"Yes, you are correct. Everything is running smoothly." Feeling rather uninterested, he tossed in, drawling, "I learned that chocolates make clothes shrink faster."

Misaki snorted. "Oh indeed. You should know that better than anyone," she said with a hint of a glower. Straightening her blazer and shaking her short hair quickly she nodded pleasantly.

"What is your relationship status at the moment?"

With a suppressed groan, he said, "What do you think?"

"This is the last question."

Natsume stood up. Swooping at the waist, he tilted his pink-headed senior's chin upwards. With a little smirk, he landed a swift, teasing peck on her lips.

_There you go. _

"Does that answer your question?" he teased. Waving at his glowering _friend _whom he was previously sitting beside, he donned his baseball cap and tapped his own nose. Bringing two fingers up to his head, he threw the flabbergasted blonde a mock salute and made his way towards the exit.

With a slight wink, he was gone.

* * *

It was already half past noon when Natsume finally made his way down the street he had first taken.

He had bumped into Akiko on the way out; with a small nod, he had helped the clumsy girl up from the ground and walked away.

She glanced up at him, startled as she stuttered quick apologies and hasty _thank-you_s.  
She smelled of sweet juniper and orchids.

_Tangerines._

Natsume stopped abruptly mid-step. Pulling his cap off deftly, he ruffled his hair in exasperation and kept walking.

Reaching Shibuya crossing, he leaned against a pole and lowered his cap rim. Crossing his legs out of habit, he closed his eyes.

The street's overwhelming chatter directed his attention away from the endless waves of young, cheerful Japanese women. It was always the same; women were rarely different – it was no surprise that a quarter of an hour felt like eternity for the impatient late-teen.

Half-snoozing in a pair of shades, a small tap shook him back to his surroundings.

He groaned silently and pulled into a standing position. Rubbing an eye with lazy fingers, he grunted.

"Eh, excuse me, a-are you perhaps Natsume?"

His shades slid slowly towards the bridge of his nose. Closing his eyes, he replied, "No."

"You are not Natsume Hyuuga?"

The said male sighed. Pushing the glasses back up to his eyes, he repeated his previous answer.

"Oh, but…" the speaker's voice dissipated. "But… I – you…"

Annoyed, Natsume removed his sunglasses. "What do you want?"

Eyeing the intruder of his peace, Natsume failed to suppress his annoyance. The girl speaking to him was short in height; an overtly large chest protruded from her relatively thin figure. Her unusually blue hair fell in odd angles above her shoulders.

Her murky eyes stared at him fanatically as she unconsciously licked her lips. Rushing forward, she continued speaking.

As she continued her chatter, Natsume nodded along, tuning out her loud chattering.

"And then he was like, 'No, marry me!' And then I just like, well it was like… And then Sam bought me an adorable rainbow headband… Anyway, then I was like 'You know what you bi—'"

Natsume adjusted his hat. Voice thickly lathered with impatience, he interrupted the chattering girl. "Pardon?"

The girl stopped in midsentence. Her arms were loaded with bags of varying brands as she attempted to amplify her gestures. Smiling continuously, she grinned, "Sorry, you probably don't really know what I'm talking about."

"I don't." Glancing at his phone, Natsume ignored the girl's hurt expression as he shook off any excessive guilt that clung to his insides. It was already 1:32, but his reckless sister's driving was nowhere to be seen.

"May I have your autograph?"

_No. _

"Sure."

The girl's gaze lit up as she fumbled with a purse hanging from her neck. Producing a heavy fountain pen and a kitten-filled notebook, she held them up cheekily.

Twirling the pen between his index and third finger, Natsume begrudgingly scrawled a hasty _N.H. _on a random sheet of lined paper.

Pocketing the pen, he turned around. Ignoring the ginger head's supposed friends behind them, he waved. With a husky cough, he declared, "I will be keeping this. Good day."

Out of sight, he kept his head low and ducked into a nearby café.

Greeted by bustling waitresses, he went ahead and seated himself near a window.

Observing the busy city-goers, he removed his excessive accessories and fished his phone from his pocket. Busying himself with unread messages, a woman came to stand beside him.

_It's always a woman._

"Good afternoon sir. Welcome to _Retrouvailles_! My name is Chloe and I will be your waitress for today." She pulled out a white notepad. "What may I interest you in today?"

Tilting his head, Natsume leaned against the chair. With a humorless chuckle that bordered politeness, he said, "Enlighten me."

The woman looked briefly confused before she rolled her eyes. Complying with his wishes, she rattled off, "_Pain au Chocolat_, _Poire Belle Hélène_, and our pâtissier special _Chocolat Mousse_ topped with strawberries."

Natsume eyed her lazily before nodding slowly. "_Chocolat Mousse_."

The redhead nodded. "Anything else?"

One finger under his chin, Natsume answered, "Buttermilk brioche. Do wrap that up. Thank you."

He watched lazily as she practically skipped towards the counter, her black-and-white French maid dress flouncing against her dark leggings. Tucking a stray strand of fiery hair into her checkered headband, she hummed a little tune, pausing to look up every so often whenever a new customer entered.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
From: Aoi Hyuuga  
To: Natsume Hyuuga

_Date:_ March 13th

_1:34 p.m._ **iMessage:** Sorry! I got caught up! I'm coming over right now.  
_1:34 p.m._ **iMessage:** Is this a silent treatment?  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Natsume shook his head and continued scrolling.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
_1:35 p.m. _**iMessage:** I have a question.  
_1:45 p.m._ **iMessage:** STOP IGNORNIOG MEErtdt  
_1:47 p.m._ **iMessage:** OH MY LORD, THIS MAD WOMANALMOST CRASHED INTO ME. NATSUME.  
_1:48 p.m. _**iMessage:** What if I told you there's a guy I like?  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Blowing at a stray strand of hair tickling his eyes, Natsume could practically hear his younger sister panic as she glanced at the rear windows erratically.

A small voice told him he should be concerned, but it didn't bother him that he thought otherwise.

_Your fault for being a maniac of a driver._

However, he was displeased with his sister's last text. Annoyance creeping into his system, his brotherly instincts kicked in as he frowned at the phone in his hand.

Without as much as a 'thank you' to the redhead whom brought his order, he languidly typed in a reply.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
To: Aoi Hyuuga  
From: Natsume Hyuuga

_Date:_ March 13th

_1:50 p.m. _**iMessage:** If there is any guy (except me) whom catches your eye, I will skin you alive.  
_1:50 p.m. _**iMessage:** You should know better than to text while driving. Focus, stupid.  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

"Sir. Sir?"

Natsume looked up.

Staring down at him was the same woman (if she could even be called one) who had brought his lonely mousse sitting on a table with a dainty looking fork sitting on a lace napkin beside it.

Clearing his throat, he nodded acknowledgement.

"I brought you a cup of dark coffee, on the house!" She emphasized her announcement by bouncing a tray holding a glass coffee pitcher and a ceramic mug with the café's logo inscribed upon it.

Without waiting for an answer, the woman placed the mug on top of his table and smiled. "Here is milk and sugar if you care for any." She beamed. "Enjoy!"

Natsume glanced at the mug filled to the brim with dark, steaming liquid. Eyeing the white container filled with an odd array of sugar and plastic _things_ filled with what-was-it-probably-hazelnut cream, he licked his lips with distaste.

_Hazelnut._

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
From: Aoi Hyuuga  
To: Natsume Hyuuga

_Date:_ March 14th

_1:54 p.m_. **iMessage:** Okay Big Bro. No more nice games. Where are you? I'm hereeee.  
_1:55 p.m. _**iMessage: **Besides, I don't like ANY guy. It was the only way to get you to reply me. Poophead.  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

With a swig at his coffee, Natsume choked down the burning beverage, a fleeting thought of bitter distaste filling his mouth.

Disregarding the dark liquid quickly, he adjusted his cap.

Dismissing the thoughts regarding his sister and a guy he probably didn't know, he shook his head.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
From: Natsume Hyuuga  
To: Aoi Hyuuga

Date: March 14th

_1:56 p.m. _**iMessage:** Here where? Where are you?  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
From: Aoi Hyuuga  
To: Natsume Hyuuga

_Date:_ March 13th

_1:56 p.m. _**iMessage:** Jeez. I've parked already. Gonna come find you.  
_1:56_ p.m. **iMessage:** I'm an evil little sister. I'm tracking you, Nat!  
_1:57 p.m._ **iMessage:** Ugh, I had to borrow change from a pink-haired girl. She was really nice but… oh well. Anyway yeah. I'M COMING!  
_1:58 p.m._ **iMessage:** Hehehe, I found you. Don't move!  
_1:59 p.m. _**iMessage:** I'M COMING!  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Turning his vibrating phone into mute mode, his mind briefly wandered towards his earlier interview.

Maybe that exit wasn't ideal.

Sure, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, it just felt stupid.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
To: Aoi Hyuuga  
From: Natsume Hyuuga

_Date:_ 4/13

_1:59 p.m._ **iMessage:** You're taking an awful long time to get here. Stop abusing the Find My iPhone feature.  
_1:59 p.m._ **iMessage:** We're going to AC later.  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Leaving his coffee half-finished, he swiped the wrapped brioche into his pockets. Then, unperturbed by his untouched mousse, he signaled for a waitress to "_box it up._"

Donning his dark shades, Natsume stepped out of the café. With a bulging side pocket and a hand grasping a covered dessert, he glanced down the bustling sidewalk.

A teenager walked past him – the boy was probably no more than fifteen years old. Holding the soft hand of stumbling toddler, the older lad bent and spoke to him softly. Brown-haired and green-eyed, the teenager's soft features radiated of empathy and silent affection.

The toddler stopped in his tracks, and as Natsume watched amusedly, he let go of the older boy's hand and pointed at a woman sitting on a seat, alone.

Tiptoeing in his black sneakers, the little boy whispered something into his older companion's ear, earning a shrug and a little twitch of the mouth in return.

Natsume watched the young child and the older boy, slightly wondering what was happening next.

_None of your business._

_Shut up._

_What? _You_ shut up… and no._

Shaking his head, Natsume observed the toddling child nevertheless.

The three-year old walked cautiously towards a woman sitting on a chair, her stomach swollen as she flipped through a magazine, a cup of hot chocolate steaming on the table.

"Why is your stomach so big?" the child asked curiously.

The woman looked down and smiled upon seeing the little boy. Bending, she peered into his eyes. "Well you see," she started pleasantly, "I'm having a baby, little one."

"Is the baby in your stomach?" The boy blinked up innocently, his large green eyes shining in the sunlight. Natsume noted the similarity between the youngster and the older lad, whom was standing a few feet away as he watched the younger boy with a thin coat of amusement.

The woman continued smiling, her pearly teeth flashing. "Yes indeed."

Puzzled, the little boy's hand found its place on his neck. "Is it a good baby?"

The pregnant woman nodded, "Oh yes, yes he is. He is a really good baby."

With a bewildered look that displayed shock and surprise, his face contorted into an odd angle. "Then why did you eat him?"

At this, Natsume would have burst out laughing weren't it for his controlled temper and the oddity of the scenario before him.

Turning his gaze, Natsume watched the little boy's brown-haired caretaker make a move.

With an eye roll, the brown-haired lad pushed off the glass window and stepped swiftly towards what Natsume assumed must be his younger brother.

The woman was glancing awkwardly at the little boy, not sure what to say. Relieved at the sight of her and the little boy's savior, she patted the three-year-old's head. "You'll know eventually, don't you fret." She winked at the little boy, "But don't worry, I didn't eat this baby."

Ruffling the little boy's head, Natsume watched amusedly as she bent down sorely and gave him a small hug.

"Ren, let's go."

The older boy had swooped and grasped his brother's hand, a quick look of discomfort falling over his features. Directing a mumbled apology and embarrassed nod at the patient woman, he had steered the innocent boy away from the prying eyes of public.

Natsume let out a quiet chuckle as he watched the pair disappear into the streets. Dismissing any thoughts of familiarity with the older lad, he couldn't help but catch the young boy's protesting words.

"You-onii-san… why… but, she… nice!"

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
From: Aoi Hyuuga  
To: Natsume Hyuuga

_Date:_ March 13th

_2:00 p.m._ **iMessage:** Sure, I need to bother one of my friends there anyway.  
_2:01 p.m._ **iMessage:** Oh I see you!  
_2:01 p.m._ **iMessage:** Wait, is that even you?  
_2:02 p.m._ **iMessage:** Oh yep it is! I'm so funny. J  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Looking up, his eyes caught a familiar blob of dark hair.

Striding towards his sister, he flicked her forehead. "One: don't text while driving. Two: don't text while driving. And three: _don't text while driving_. Four: No guys for you. Now, show me the car; I'll do the driving."

With that, Aoi glared at her elder brother before towing her older sibling down several blocks until they reached the desired parking spot.

Natsume heaved himself into the driver's seat as Aoi wiggled through the passenger's open window.

Throwing his sister an odd look, he shook his head and commented, "Nice underwear."

"Thanks, pervert."

Natsume shrugged. "So, tell me about your day," he said blandly.

Accepting the invitation to speak, Aoi grinned. "You won't believe what happened today."

"And I thought you were going to jabber off about my interview," he muttered under his breath. Stepping on the ignition, he sped out of the parking lot and cruised down an unusually empty street.

Aoi ignored her brother' comment and continued. "Okay so guess what!"

"I am guessing that I will need an ear transplant, given that you've damaged one of my eardrums."

She gave her brother a thwack on the head before pressing her lips together. "You'll never guess!"

"Enlighten me."

"Okay. Wait first, what's in your pocket?"

Natsume shrugged, pulling out the paper wrapping. "Thought you'd get hungry." He removed his sunglasses and slipped them into the compartment. "Don't get crumbs all over your seat," he added snidely.

Aoi's eyes widened. Grinning, she leaned over and hugged her brother's right arm. Peeking into the bag, she smiled stupidly. "Thank you, onii-san!"

"It's been a while since you called me that," Natsume remarked, teasing her.

"You never deserved it anyway. I just felt like being nice, _unlike someone._"

As Natsume made a smoother turn to the right, he listened as his sister talked nonstop. She would pause once in a while to chew on the buttermilk pastry.

"Okay so basically, I was at this cute little diner with a friend. Then this good-looking waiter came and introduced himself and all that. Then he asked me if I wanted supersalad. And of course, I didn't really know what he was talking about so I just said 'yes.' And then the waiter and my friend gave me a weird look and stared at me like I was an idiot."

As Natsume listened, he shook his head. Poking his sister's arm, he said. "Oi, Aoi."

Aoi looked up, several crumbs gathering up at the corner of her lip. "Yeah?"

"You really are an idiot."

"Hey, it's not _my_ fault that I don't know what some stupid supersalad is!" She gave a huff and crossed her legs, kicking off her flats at the same time.

"Yeah sure."

"'Yeah sure' what?"

With a little grin, he pulled into another parking lot. Killing the engine, he glanced at his sister goofily. "You sure _Mr. Hot Guy_ didn't say '_soup _or _salad?_'"

Aoi blinked. Suddenly, she screeched, "Oh my god! So that's why! And I thought everyone was crazy! I mean like, why would anyone order or even MAKE a supersalad? I mean like, cucumbers and tomatoes are good and all that, but like ermehgersh how—"

"Aoi, my eardrums are bursting. Honestly. I swear if you don't—"

"Jeez, I'm shutting up, I'm shutting up," she mumbled her cheeks turning scarlet as she gazed out the window. She crumbled her paper bag and crawled out the car through the window.

Natsume honestly didn't understand why his sister would crawl when there was a perfectly fine door waiting to be of her service.

"Natsume, Natsume, I forgot, I forgot," she yipped, "my—Ow! My shoes."

With a grunt, Natsume bent and flung his sister's yellow ballet flats out the window before stepping out of the vehicle himself.

"Go do whatever you need to do. Meet you back here in about an hour."

Aoi acknowledged her brother's comment with a smile and a small wave as she jogged in the opposite direction.

Walking over to Alice Academy's familiar oak tree, he traced his fingers over the rough bark and leaned his forehead against it. Inhaling the soft, warm scent, he closed his eyes for several seconds before a vibration called for his attention.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
From: Nogi  
To: Natsume Hyuuga

_Date:_ March 13th

_2:28 p.m._ **iMessage:** Joke?  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Natsume laughed and just shook his head.

His blue-eyed friend seemed to form conclusions and flawlessly pinpointed Natsume's availability.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
From: Natsume Hyuuga  
To: Bunny Boy

_Date:_ March 13th

_2:28 p.m. _**iMessage:** Go ahead. Entertain me.  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

_Bunny Boy, 2:29 p.m._ **iMessage:** What did the ocean say to another ocean?

_Natsume Hyuuga, 2:30 p.m._ **iMessage:** What?

_Bunny Boy, 2:30 p.m. _**iMessage:** Nothing. They just waved.

_Natsume Hyuuga, 2:30 p.m. _**iMessage:** Oh.

_Bunny Boy, 2:30 p.m._ **iMessage:** Do you sea what I did there?

_Natsume Hyuuga, 2:31 p.m._ **iMessage:** No.

_Bunny Boy, 2:31 p.m._ **iMessage:** I'm shore you did…

_Natsume Hyuuga, 2:31 p.m._ **iMessage:** Dear lord, how do you have friends?

_Bunny Boy, 2:32 p.m._ **iMessage: **Don't be such a beach, Nat.  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Walking down empty corridors of Alice College, Natsume entered the classroom he was looking for.

"I was beginning to think you were never going to come."

"You sound like a drug dealer." Natsume frowned and rubbed a weary thumb against his brow.

"I would be surprised if you _didn't_ do drugs, Hyuuga."

"Oh please," Natsume mocked, "There is no need for formalities. Natsume works."

"Then Natsume it is."

Natsume threw his shades across the room. "So, humor me."

"Humor you with what?"

"Here, let me tell you a joke." Natsume took a seat on a wooden desk, his silhouette outlined against the dim lighting coming from the open doorway. Crossing his legs, he looked lazily around the shaded room. "What is six inches long, two inches wide, _and drives women wild?_"

An amused voice came from a corner. "I'm rather amused. But you being a pervert, I am not altogether surprised."

Natsume's lips curled into a little grin. "Give up?"

"No, you dickhead. The answer is money."

"Easy with the words there, _milady_. Women aren't loved dearly for their word choices."

"They are valued for their bodies, you imply? Sure thing. In that case, I'd suggest for you to shut up."

With an annoyed scowl, Natsume lay down, crossing his arms over his abdomen. "That doesn't even make sense. You may start."

A projectile hit a wall on the opposite end, illuminating against the blackboard. Upon it was an image of a shy brunette, sitting beside a gray-eyed senior on a bench. She held a book in her hands and was dressed loosely in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

Natsume's scowl deepened. Bolting upwards, he crossed his arms in displeasure. "Why are you showing me that picture?"

_She's sitting with another guy._

Just the thought made his blood boil.

The woman stepped out from the shadows. "There is no need for dramatic effects, honestly."

The lights flickered on, revealing a female figure not much older than Natsume himself. Her large violet eyes were framed with an abundance of thick eyelashes. Her short black hair was styled into a devilish pixie cut; long bangs fell across one side of her forehead and a small violet hairclip nestled above an ear.

Pointing at the picture, Natsume raised an eyebrow, evidently waiting for an explanation.

"You'll be getting nowhere in AC," the woman said simply.

_What the – What the actual fuck._

"What is that photo doing here?"

"Reasons."

Natsume forced off any nagging feelings. The photo was none of his concern. Gritting his teeth, he spit out, "What did you come here for?"

"Curiosity."

"You wouldn't come here out of plain curiosity. Hell knows how much you value your _precious_ time," he spat.

Hotaru smiled humorlessly. "And at least you aren't naïve."

Natsume snorted. "I'm not naïve."

_Damn this woman._

"I didn't say you were." She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and tilted her head to the side.

"Whatever." Natsume fumed silently as he forced himself to ignore the woman's words.

It was enough that she was inconsiderate enough to pop back into his life. But meddling with it as well? That was overstepping the boundaries.

Hotaru shook her head. "You're so juvenile." She held up a white envelope. Thrusting the letter into Natsume's arms, she jerked her head towards it. "Open it."

Natsume rolled his eyes. "It's a pleasure to see you again too."

"Seven months hasn't changed your cynical attitude."

"Hn. I haven't been counting." Scanning the letter quickly, he folded it in half with trembling hands. "So what's this about?"

"What do you think?"

_Well, two can play this game._

"My apologies, Imai." Natsume bent at the waist and mockingly swept himself into a bow, "I seem to lack any _talent_ in this field."

"Come again?"

"I lack the ability to think," he elaborated bluntly.

Hotaru shook her head, accompanied with an eye roll. "You're coming to America with me."

Natsume laughed bitterly. "Easier said than done. Want to hear my answer? No. Fucking _no_."

_America – Imai. What? _His mind raced to catch up with the woman's words. He was sure that in between those lines dripped clues that he so desperately wanted.

"Language, Natsume."

"So now you're one to talk."

"I didn't ask you to talk."

Natsume snorted. "I didn't ask you to give me a stupid envelope."

Hotaru shrugged and stepped in front of him. Meeting eye-to-eye with the raven-haired male, she whispered, "Don't fuck this up."

"It's only education. You don't just _fuck up_ education."

"Precisely." In a crisp voice, she repeated as she stepped back, "You're coming to America with me."

"Slow down," Natsume snapped. "I have a life here. No one gave you permission to meddle with _my_ life." He crossed his arms and shuddered unconsciously. He blinked and swallowed.

"You have one heck of a life. You think _you_ have a life?" Hotaru challenged.

"I already said no," he ground out. "No means no."

With a voice laden with sarcasm, Hotaru remarked, "I thought yes means no, and no means yes."

"I have a life. Shut up with your stupid nonsense. Now if you'll move aside, I have a call to make." Fervent for any excuse at all, Natsume waited for her to step out of his way.

Hotaru held up a hand. "No way. I wasted all this time flying back to Tokyo and you're giving me an outright no? _Unacceptable_."

"No one told you, no one _begged_ you to convince the administration of some smartass college in Massachusetts to send me some acceptance letter." Natsume waved the letter in front of her nose, "I didn't even apply for Harvard."

Hotaru held said monotonously, "And yet I've done it."

Natsume gagged. "You've done what."

"Everything you were bumbling on and on about." Hotaru glanced upwards, briefly studying the ceiling.

Natsume's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to?"

Hotaru shrugged. Amethyst eyes unblinking, she said, "I'm doing you a favor and digging you out of your hellhole. You have options now. Get your sorry head out of your arse and open your eyes.

"I'm not blind, Imai. I have eyes, in case you haven't noticed."

"I haven't – I have not noticed."

Natsume groaned. Rubbing an eye slowly, he glared at the expectant Imai. "You're giving me no time to contemplate this, woman."

"And that's the whole point."

Shaking his head, Natsume walked across the classroom and stood there silently. He felt Hotaru's piercing gaze upon his back as he pulled the shades open, revealing a sun slowly going into hiding behind clouds.

He tugged at his cap. Laughing inordinately to himself, he sighed.

_What am I doing?_

Turning to face the woman, he asked suddenly, "Why?"

"Why are you such a nuisance? Get your life together, Natsume," she snapped. "Go to a good university. Study. Get a degree. Don't rely on your family name and money to give yourself a reputation." Hotaru's bore through her friend's, challenging the stubborn, red-eye to contradict her.

Natsume glowered at her dangerously.

"You're getting nowhere in Japan. You'll be a great asset to Harvard." She paused, "You're too much of a chicken."

"There another purpose behind all this."

"You've got family. Aside from that, _education _is most important. You _have _a shot, you ass."

"So what? Get a degree? Become an independent billionaire?" Natsume rubbed his forehead furiously, forcefully. "That's just the surface. Nobody _cares."_

"Natsume Hyuuga, people care. People care about the surface."

"Right. Sex and what? Money?" he sneered.

"Mikan's there too."

_Holy Jesus. Freaking. Dear Lord…_

Unexpectedly, Natsume yanked his cap from his head and threw it to the ground in a sudden bout of irritation. His bubble broke. "So this is what this is all about, isn't it? It all comes back to some stupid fucking girl. Isn't that why you came back?"

Hotaru stared at him calmly. "No."

"Aoi, Ruka, _you_. You are just pitiful people _looking_ for something to pity! Are you looking for a game to pass the time? Are you? This is a joke, isn't it?"

Natsume blew a fuse. He could not _not _care – he didn't know. He was absolutely clueless.

Natsume Hyuuga was terrified.

"Joke? Please Hyuuga, tell me that you've matured. Don't speak of your sister that way. And don't bring Bunny Boy into this."

"I have a life. I _have_ a life!" More than anything, he seemed to be convincing himself. "I don't need some rich, smart Imai to come waltzing in and sending me off overseas to come motherfucking college." Natsume threw his right arm behind him and pointed at the window. "This is where I belong! Mikan or no Mikan," he glowered dangerously, "_I am staying here_."

"That was quite a performance." Hotaru pulled out a hidden camera, "I wasn't expecting you to explode, but nevertheless, I'll be able to afford a month-long trip to the Bahamas now. Thank you."

"Listen, Imai," Natsume snarled. Stabbing an index finger on her collarbone, he hissed, "I stay out of your life, you stay out of mine."

Hotaru turned, the camera dangling from her neck. With a wave of her hand, she said, "You're out of character – it's pathetic. There is no use in speaking to you when you're irate and on a roll. Shoot me a text when you've calmed down. You have three days."

She turned and walked away. "Oh and one more thing," she added, "two days," she corrected. "Take advantage of this situation, of Harvard, and the mentioning of Mikan? That was but a practical joke played on my part. She's moved on, Hyuuga. She's moved on."

With the clacking of heels slowly fading down the hall, Hotaru Imai disappeared down the polished floors of Alice College. _"You are better than this, Natsume Hyuuga."_

Natsume leaned against a cabinet. Throwing a fist into the polished wood, he groaned.

_Fuck._

Tugging at the ends of his hair, he forced himself to exhale. Leaning down to grab his previously-abandoned baseball cap, he forcefully shoved it onto his head. Sunglasses in one hand, he stalked out of the classroom and down the corridor.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …  
From: Aoi Hyuuga  
To: Natsume Hyuuga

_Date:_ March 13th

_3:42 p.m. _**iMessage:** Hey, I forgot to ask. What're you doing anyway?  
_3:43 p.m. _**iMessage:** Just so you know, I'm waiting in the car. You left the keys in the cup holder… Dumbass.  
_3:50 p.m. _**iMessage:** How much longer must I waityg? It's been more than an hour!  
_3:59 p.m._ **iMessage:** P.S. I watched your interview from this morning…  
_3:59 p.m._ **iMessage:** And that wasn't our agreement! You owe me big time!  
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Not bothering to reply his sister, Natsume took a detour and found himself in the men's restroom. Stuffing his phone into his back pocket, he forcefully turned the faucet on, splashing his face with cold water. Leaning against the sink, he stared at his haggard reflection in the mirror.

Water dripped from his shaggy, wet bangs before they detoured towards the crease in the corners of his eyes and slid down his cheek. The water fell from his chin, dropping with a hollow patter into the white sink. His tired eyes were bloodshot and wild, mimicking the expression of a caged animal that threatened to lunge. His lips contorted into a permanent scowl—seeing the scowl only caused it to deepen considerably.

Livid, he removed his cap and heatedly discarded it on the countertop. Glaring at his reflection in the mirror, he gripped the sink until his white knuckles protested profusely.

Stepping back, he swallowed.

He slapped himself. As it rung emptily, bouncing off the tiled flooring, he panted. Distantly satisfied, he grunted as a reddened imprint began glowing on his lower cheek.

_Focus. Focus._

_Focus._

It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to go to America. It wasn't that he disliked the thought of the invitation letter containing his acceptance to an American university.

He was confused. And what murdered him was that he _didn't know why._

Groaning, Natsume mentally pinched himself.

His mind spiraled out of control.

Chest heaving beneath his soaked shirt, he bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut.

Mind made up, he gave his reflection one last glare before drying his face. Ripping paper towels from the soundless dispenser, he snarled. Cap sitting on his head again, he marched out the swinging door and led himself to the school parking lot.

Nearing the shiny metallic vehicle, he frowned. A second round of annoyance flooded him.

_The hell?_

Brows furrowed, his fingers began to tingle as he grit his teeth together as adrenaline pulsated through his aggravated veins.

Aoi was sitting on the hood of the car, her legs dangling. Her red iPhone was behind her, threatening to slide off the hood.

She obviously didn't notice.

But it wasn't where she was sitting that slapped him across the face.

It was what she _doing_.

It most definitely was.

One hand supporting her from behind, she was pressed against an unfamiliarly familiar, masculine figure. From where Natsume stood several meters away, watching, he could see the man's was tussled hair, and cobalt in color. His sister's fingers were entangled in his hair; the two were in the process of, albeit fully-clothed, pressed close together; to say they looked passionate was an understatement.

Natsume's pace quickened. Nearing the duo, his hands curled into fists as he bit back a sharp curse.

It was as if he did not already have enough on his plate.

It may have been a result of his befuddled mind, or maybe it was his own vague, confused mind; maybe it was because he refused to accept – to believe – that his sister was growing up — maybe it was a combination of all of those reasons. But what seemed clear as day was Natsume Hyuuga's ire as the entire day's, week's, _months' _of ache, incertitude, and resentment exploded, shattering into a myriad of fragments on the vacant campus grounds of Alice College.

"Aoi, _what the hell are you doing?_"

* * *

**Stay tuned,  
Reviews are appreciated!**

November 28th, 2015**_  
_**_HE_


End file.
